


Bitty and the Beast

by DreamingMystic



Category: Bittybones - Fandom, Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bittybones (Undertale), Antisocial Personality Disorder, Axe is 6 inches, Axe is a fucking MOUNTAIN in comparison, Axe is marshmallow, BRAIN GOOP, Confusion about someone's gender, Developmental Topographical Disorientation, Drowning, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Empathy Issues, Fluff, Gender Confusion, Gender Issues, He big softie, Hurt/Comfort, I'm terrible to my children, Inky and Axe will get real names later, Inky has no tact, Inky has quite the mouth and I'm surprised, Inky is 4.4 inches, Inky is jelly bean, Inky is prone to flipping his shit and I love it, It's what little Inkies are made of, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Misgendering, Murder Alley, Near Death Experiences, No hurt his new pretty, Obsession, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rare Pair, Sass and Spite, Self-Hatred, Size Difference, Slow Burn, Sprinkle pictures in whenever I feel like making them, TELL ME!, THE GIANT FLUFFBALL BLUSHED, TWs will be in the End Notes section, Think a chapter needs a TW?, Updates Saturday!, Violence, almost getting face eaten by rats, because I hurt Inky a lot and he just really needs hugs, because issues need to be sorted out first, budding pyromaniac, but not really, cursing, despite everything Inky WILL sass you and your mother, gentle giant will stab you, homeless bitties, i art sometimes, mostly fluff and fun, so many issues, they're both bitties so it's not really Ink and Horror, when your prospective love interest tries to murder you with tiny hands but all you can do is laugh
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-12
Updated: 2020-10-09
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:40:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 59,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25231012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DreamingMystic/pseuds/DreamingMystic
Summary: Axe is a simple bitty. He hunts for food, scavenges for what he needs, enjoys hot chocolate with a soft blanket…and loves pretty things. He collects them, covets them, NEEDS them to be his.  So when the Horror finds a bitty composed entirely of rainbows and beautiful pastels fighting for their life, well…how can he not step inand claim what is his?Inky’s a runaway that can’t catch a break. Full of life and vitality, the artisan just wants to get away and have some agency over his life. Some choice and control. The ability to run, jump, and FLY until he finds the happiness that has eluded him all his life. He’s not off to a great start but he’ll be DAMNED if he lets that stop him!These two will butt heads as they try to assert what they want over the other. Possessive desire versus freedom’s yearning…but that’s not what this story is about.This is a story about personal development and blooming compassion. About forging bonds as genuine care seeps in. About two street living bitties trying to make a better, happier life for themselves in the midst of their survival.Few things outshine the joys of love and laughter. This is a story where these two learn and grow as they strive for both.
Relationships: Bittybone(s)/Bittybone(s) (Undertale), Sans/Sans (Undertale)
Comments: 218
Kudos: 164





	1. Blood and Rainbows

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Don't pursue happiness, create it! (Bittybones)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17148314) by [CuddlyQuiche](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CuddlyQuiche/pseuds/CuddlyQuiche). 
  * Inspired by [Bit-ter Memories](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16916061) by [Tinypeachfox](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tinypeachfox/pseuds/Tinypeachfox). 



> Special thanks to my good friend Amanda for beta-reading my chapters and giving me the confidence I needed to post my first fanfic. And also for being super smart and giving me insight on psychological matters. Axe is better for it, so thank you! :D
> 
> ====================
> 
>  **Trigger Warnings** will be listed in the End Notes section. If you think a chapter needs a TW don't be afraid to tell me! I care for your comfort. :)
> 
> ====================
> 
> My Undertale Art & Fanfic Tumblr Blog:  
> https://cafe-sugar-skull.tumblr.com/

The rain is as treacherous as it is peaceful… or at least it can be for a bitty.

Most days when Axe knows a storm is coming he’d burrow into the soft fabric of his bedding and listen to the sound of falling raindrops hitting the side of his home, lulling him to sleep much like a lullaby. When he’s been caught out in the rain -usually during a scavenging run- the little Horrortale Sans would quickly find a dry place to hunker down, high above a possibly flooding earth, and watch the ensuing deluge, feeling at peace.

But right now Axe is not at home, and he is not under cover. For the better part of the day, the Horror bitty could see dark clouds gather in the sky, smell the scent of water blowing in on the wind, and even feel the earth gently rumble from the force of distant thunder. He knew that he should have stayed indoors, preparing a fire to later heat a thimble of hot chocolate for him to enjoy when the downpour finally hit. He knew that if he did, he’d be cozy and safe right now underneath the covers of his favorite blanket.

But Axe is a bit of an idiot, and when he saw the flash of vibrant azure from a passing Blue Jay, well… He couldn’t help but throw all rational thought out the window and follow it, desiring nothing more than to see such pretty feathers up close and claim them for himself.

No, wait… Not desire. Need.  
He NEEDED to get those feathers. To possess and covet and treasure. To squirrel away with all the other pretties he NEEDED to hoard all to himself. Normally Axe’s… fixation doesn’t give him any problems, but pursuing a bird -a very healthy one, he might add- turned out to be a very difficult and time consuming endeavor for something as small as him. Turning mid-afternoon into late evening by the time he finally caught his quarry.

So now here he was, far from home, stuck in the middle of an intense downpour with lightning cracking through the sky and thunder echoing loudly across the landscape. The rain came down in cold sheets that quickly soaked the little Axe bitty through and through, ignoring the protection his faded blue parka provided him. It caused his bones to not just grow cold but also numb. Heavy, fat droplets of water pelting his body over and over again drove away nearly all sensation, making Axe look down at his grip every so often to confirm he was still holding onto his catch.

Axe likened walking through this rain to what he imagined it’d be like to walk underneath a waterfall: a heavy force of water pressing down upon you, enveloping you completely, putting you at just as much risk of drowning were you to simply look up for too long. Still, despite the miserable conditions Axe had to endure as he slowly made his way home, he smiled.

_‘worth it,’_ the Horror Sans thinks to himself as he drags along the body of the Blue Jay easily twice his size by a scaly foot with little effort. Yes, chasing after this bird was a dumb idea, yes being out in this storm is dangerous and could get him killed, but he succeeded in obtaining his pretties. Those feathers of blue and white were perfect and beautiful and H I S and most certainly worth the exhaustion that came from chasing this creature all over the neighborhood. The little Axe’s only regret is that he couldn’t have _**more.**_

Looking back over his shoulder, past the falling rain and dim lighting that makes it hard to see more than vague shapes, Axe could just make out the large, dark splotch of crimson that stains the pure white breast of the bird. Despite the heavy deluge, the water had not completely washed away the mark.

The hunt had dragged on for too long. As his fatigue rose his desire for a clean kill fell. Axe would have so many more pretty feathers were he able to just break the thing’s neck like he wanted, but alas, the creature was much too sharp to allow him to get so close. At the risk of wasting all the magic and energy for nothing, Axe had to spill blood and thus sully many of the precious pretties. The tail feathers however were able to come out unscathed, thankfully, so he happily plucked those from the still warm corpse and tucked them away where they would be safe and untouched by the coming rain.

Hearing a loud boom of thunder echo upon the alleyway walls, bouncing back and forth with a deafening reverberation, Axe flinched and quickly dropped the bird leg in favor of clapping tiny hands over where his ear holes would be. When the ringing inside his broken skull finally faded, the bitty grasped at the oversized hood covering his head and grumbled as he pulled it tighter over himself.

That hurt. The fluffy fur of his parka had done a decent enough job muffling the thundering thrums so far, but it seems the storm epicenter was now much too close for it to continue being effective. Letting out a long sigh, Axe quickly reestablished his grasp upon the bird leg and changed course. He dragged his burden along a detour of winding alleyway turns that would take him out of the narrow, dirty pathways to the open space of the city outskirts. Before him stood a forest that borders the urban landscape, separated only by a drainage ditch. The woods contain its own set of dangers in the form of stalking predators, but out here Axe’s non-existent ears will at least be spared from the sky’s amplified roaring.

Keeping a wary eyelight -his only eyelight- upon the shadowed forest as he trudged forward, Axe once again considered the possibility of finding shelter so that he can finally rest, warm himself up, and dump the collection of water that’s been accumulating inside his skull. All the sloshing around is getting uncomfortable.

It’d be nice to finally stop for the night and sleep… but doing so with such a fresh kill was just asking for some animal to jump him. The rain might wash the scent away, but Axe would rather not risk it. Of course, he could always dump the body, but he had stalked this thing for half the day and he’d be remiss to waste food like that.

No matter how much a nap sounds good right now.

Occupied with these thoughts, surrounded as he was by the soothing din that enveloped him so completely, the little Horror was understandably startled to hear a loud burst of something else break the peace.

It was an ethereal sound. A call, no, a **scream** full of fear and desperation that had cut past the cacophony of thousands of falling raindrops and went straight to his soul. It caused Axe to stall in his tracks as his head turned this way and that, crimson eyelight contorting its shape to mimic a series of confused blinks. Was that... what he thought it was?

Wondering just where that otherworldly melody came from, the little Horror Sans stilled and tilted his skull to the side slightly to carefully listen past the deafening noise of water droplets hitting pavement and wet earth. He could barely pick out the sounds... but after a time he was certain he could hear someone yelling mixed alongside animalistic screeching.

Axe eyed the overgrown grass, the direction where the dark forest loomed, and decided to indulge in his curiosity. The commotion he heard could not be far off, so he readjusted his grip upon the dead bird and stepped off the crumbling asphalt walkway into grass and mud. Pushing his way past stalks of vegetation and walking around pieces of trash, the bitty soon reached the edge of a concrete drainage ditch. From his vantage point at the top, the little Horror carefully scanned the sloping edges towards the bottom where he was able to barely see shadowed forms moving in the dark.

Frantic splashing, animals snarling, the sounds of a struggle painted a picture of the scene before lightning cracked with its sudden light to reveal the pieces he was missing. In that moment of illumination Axe was able to see that three rats had cornered a small figure wearing a cloak at the gaping mouth of a culvert. Focusing his eyesight to clearly perceive the souls below through the heavy rain allowed him to see that the cornered creature had only a mere slither of a soul, confirming his suspicions that it was another bitty.

That scream from earlier was sent from the guy’s soul as a desperate call for help. Even now he can hear the rhythm of the other’s soul song trilling erratically in utter panic, despite having quieted down to a mere frantic wailing after the initial piercing cry. The guy must have run down into the ditch not knowing that the culvert had a cover over its entrance with bars spaced too close together to let them through. 

The little Horror watched the soul shard wiggle in place as the rat souls bounced every which way while loud screeches and water splashing was heard. The dim lighting barely allowed him to see that those rodents were dodging long, thin projectiles thrown their way. Only perhaps once or twice did Axe see the larger silhouettes flinch alongside an accompanying pained cry, indicating that while the cloaked bitty was putting up a determined fight, it wasn’t enough. All they could do was keep the hungry beasts at bay, not putting up enough of a threat to scare them off or even make an opening to get away. Eventually they will tire, they will slip up, and they will die.

Knowing this, seeing this, listening to the panicked cries of a bitty desperately trying to stay alive as they fought tooth and nail against their attackers, Axe looked upon the scene and felt…

Nothing.

No compassion stirred in his soul shard, no urge to help a fellow bitty. His glowing, crimson gaze was cold and impassioned as he observed the dancing figures below, feeling nothing more than mild interest. No concern, no empathy, no care… It’s a heartless reaction, Axe knows, but it’s not something that can be helped. Not something that can be forced. 

~~Not something a broken thing can feel.~~

Ignoring the familiar prick of self-loathing in the back of his soul, Axe takes in the scene for a little longer before deciding to turn around to continue on his way home. Tired, hungry, and thoroughly soaked, the little Horror’s thoughts turned to warm fires, dry blankets, and dinner. Just as he was contemplating whether he should use the spices he found the other day for cooking, a flying bone attack suddenly cuts off his path and lodges itself into a nearby tin can, causing the piece of trash to fall over and roll around from the force of the impact.

That cloaked bitty must be getting _really_ tired if their attacks are starting to miss so bad they are getting flung all the way up here. Axe watches the piece of trash slow its rolling with mild interest until lightning flashes once again and he catches the glint of something colorful reflecting off the bone.

Eye sockets widening, the bitty’s soul jumped excitedly at the brief display. Without a second thought, he dropped the bird leg and quickly walked up to the bone attack, staring at the construct. Unable to gleam much with the red glow of his eyelight alone, Axe reached into his jacket and pulled out a giant flashlight. Or at least giant when compared to him. It’s something he found on a set of lost keys a long time ago.

The little Axe did not like using this keychain when it wasn’t necessary. Even with this blinding rain he knew these back alleyways well enough to not require its use. It’s not wise to waste batteries, but this is important. This is special.

Hefting the large flashlight onto his shoulder for support, the Axe clicked the light on and aimed the beam at the bone. What he saw caused his already large eyelight to dilate in awe as he sucked in a breath. The pure white bone shimmered in all colors of the rainbow with pastel hues surrounding the construct in a soft, reflected glow much like a halo in the presence of such a bright light. The little Horror was transfixed, mesmerized by such beautiful iridescence as he reached with his free hand to carefully, almost reverently, pull the bone out of the tin can. Axe held the construct like a precious treasure as he gently ran his thumb over the surface.

Smooth like porcelain. A delicate yet colorful china. Nothing like his own bone attacks… His are always jagged and full of holes. Magical osteoporosis thanks to lack of available magic. While this bone is strong and _breathtaking_ his constructs are brittle and broken. A surge of self-consciousness gnawed at his soul at the comparison, but it was easily ignored as he was enthralled by the sight of the pretty rainbow glow.

Out of the corner of his eye, the little Horror noticed another bone attack sticking out of the dirt. Eagerly, greedily, he ran over and snatched it up. Then a third. Then a fourth. As he admired his small collection in the beam of his flashlight, Axe wondered if he asked nicely enough the cloaked bitty would make him some more.

Then he became aware of the world again and heard the screaming.

Oh. Right. The guy is still fighting off rats. He forgot about that.

Quickly the little Horror clicked off his light and stuffed both flashlight and bone collection into the depths of his jacket before sliding down the sloping side of the drainage ditch. Landing at the bottom, the bitty barely noticed the water reaching his knees as he studied the fight, gaining glimpses as arcing lightning in the stormy clouds above occasionally lit the area. The rats were closing in for the kill, but they had their backs turned to him.

Slowly, carefully, all without making a splash of a sound, Axe crept up towards the closest rat. Quietly he reached once again into the depths of his sopping wet jacket and pulled out a butterfly knife. It was obscenely large in the small bitty’s hand. Folded up it nearly matched the Axe’s height of six inches, but with practiced movements the blade within gracefully twirled out of hiding with hardly any effort.

The blade slid easily through flesh as it was plunged deep into the rat’s back. A gurgled screech left its maw as its dying breaths were choked with blood seeping into its lungs. The second rat barely had time to stand on its hind legs and turn around before its neck got sliced open. The gash so deep its head was barely attached to its body. The rodent never had a chance to make a sound as warmth and life flowed freely out of the wound into the water.

Looking up from the collapsed form of his second kill, the Axe bitty saw that the third and final rat had finally managed to pounce the cloaked bitty and pin them to the ground. The other had managed to summon a long bone, allowing them to just barely keep the rodent’s constantly snapping jaws from biting off their face, but the rat was just too heavy. Their weight was enough to push the cloaked bitty under the water, resulting in half drowned yelling and sputtering as they struggled to keep their head above the surface in their fight for survival.

A fight they most certainly would have lost had the Axe bitty not harshly grabbed at the rat’s fur, yanked it off, and rammed his knife straight through its skull.

It was finally over. The battle won. Casting the area back into relative silence with only rainfall and rumbling thunder as the world’s soundtrack. The little Horror allowed himself a moment to enjoy the resulting calm before yanking his weapon out of the rodent’s cranium. 

In no time at all, the drowning bitty shot back up out of the water in a coughing fit, gasping for air. Still completely panicked, they scrambled to stand before they were anywhere close to being ready for the expenditure, tripping over their feet and just barely catching themselves before they could smash their face into the bars lining the culvert. It wasn’t until they swiftly turned around, back against the grating with their bone attack raised in a defensive position, that they finally noticed the danger had passed.

Or at least the danger with the rats.

There was still the matter of there now being a bitty with a giant, bloodied knife and a single, piercing red eyelight cutting through the darkness standing over the slaughtered remains of said rodents. Axe didn’t feel offended when the wheezing bitty fearfully inched their way along the side of the culvert barrier, keeping their bone attack raised between the two. He knows he’s pretty scary looking. 

Fortunately the other didn’t get far. As soon as their feet made contact with the side of the ditch, the cloaked bitty stumbled and fell onto the concrete slope in their fatigue. Exhaustion made pushing themselves back up very difficult. They lacked the strength, and their heavy breathing made it seem as though the air no longer had any magic to it. It made Axe feel a little light headed just watching them. 

Axe observed the other for a few seconds before moving forward. He didn’t get even two steps in before one end of the magic construct was quickly pointed at him again, causing the little Horror to pause. Axe considered the other for a moment, taking in just how their soul still cried out. There was less panic to the melody, but more fear. Uncertainty lacing the ethereal notes. One might first think to try using reassuring words to calm the other, but words have never done the Horrortale Sans much good.

So instead he answered a song with a song. He let the volume of his own spiritual resonance rise until the other could hear it. With practiced ease, Axe manipulated his tune to sing a soothing melody. One that was gentle… calm… nonthreatening… One that conveyed the intent that Axe had no desire to harm the other. It is such a basic form of bitty communication… but an effective one nonetheless.

Their reaction was almost immediate. The bone attack was still raised in defense, but all futile efforts to stand, to flee, halted. The other bitty merely stared at Axe as they drew in ragged breaths, looking as though they were doing all they could not to collapse on the spot. In response, the frantic tune of their own soul song shifted to contain less panic, less fear, but more uncertainty. To reaffirm his intent, Axe relinquished his weapon first as a show of friendliness. With a practiced flick of the wrist, the balisong folded back into itself, allowing the Horror to slide the oversized tool back into the depths of his jacket where it seemingly disappeared. 

The cloaked bitty stared at him a few moments more, eyelights searching him for any reason to doubt… and then finally their form slumped and collapsed fully onto the concrete slope, bone attack dissipating the moment it left their grasp. The wailing soul song finally calming, quieting, trilling with exhausted relief just before it could be heard no more.

Axe took this as his cue to finally close the distance between them and kneel by the bitty’s side. Up so close, the first thing he noticed was that the other is so… small. So much smaller than him. It really shouldn’t be so surprising, considering how Horrortale Sans and Papyruses are usually larger than most bitties, but Axe was still caught off guard by the size difference. He is broad and big boned while the other appears to be lithe with a deceptively delicate looking skeletal structure. Were they standing, the little Horror would guess the guy probably only came halfway up his rib cage _at most._

The next thing he noticed were the eyelights. Stars on _fire,_ he had never seen anything like them before! They changed constantly into different shapes and colors, neither socket ever matching. Triangles, squares, circles, spirals… At first they were changing rapidly, but as the other bitty calmed and regained their breath the shapes slowed down as well. It took Axe longer than he would have liked to pull his gaze away from the pretty display of switching colors, finally allowing him to notice in the dim lighting that under the cloak this guy is wearing a dress. Torn up and slashed in various places from the fight, but still a dress all the same. Odd… Most skeleton bitties identify as male. Does this one see themselves as female? He’s heard such bitties exist, but this is a first for him personally.

Overall, this guy (girl?) was… not what Axe had expected.

_This_ tiny thing fended off three full grown rats? Sure, they weren’t going to _win_ , but with how long they seemed to have lasted Axe had thought they’d be… sturdier. More solid and tough. Not a dainty little china doll. Color him impressed. 

“are ya okay...?” the much larger bitty asked in a soft, quiet voice that was gravely and rough from years of disuse. It was a… bit of a stupid question once he thought about it. No, obviously this guy was not okay, so quickly he clarified by asking “are ya hurt…?”

In the following silence, Axe at first feared that his softly spoken questions had been swallowed up by the sounds of the surrounding rainfall, but a weak and breathless “M-Maybe…” answered him after a few seconds.

Their voice sounded hoarse. Probably from almost drowning just now, though he could still pick up that their tone was... higher pitched than what was usual for a Sans-type bitty. Or at least he thought it was. It didn’t sound female per say, but it was definitely high enough to pass as ambiguous. Soo… yes? Might be a girl? Maybe??? Slowly, shakily, the maybe-girl bitty begins to sit themselves up.

“I-I think… think I’m- AH!”

A pained cry suddenly leaves the smaller bitty’s mouth as they try to stand up, forcing them to fall back down with a whimper. Axe was quick to notice an out of place dark splotch upon the lighter fabric of the dress and pulled up the hem without hesitation, inciting a squeak of surprise from the other.

They’re bleeding, that much was obvious from the dark substance contrasting against the much lighter bone, but he couldn’t tell how extensive the injury was in so little light. The occasional lightning strike brought with it brief flashes of visual clarity alongside the sky’s distant rumbles, but all he could really discern was that there was a large crack along the length of the right femur leaking an inky black marrow. Axe saw other dark lines etched into the bone, hinting that there could be more damage, but he wasn’t sure how bad the smaller wounds were. 

“hmm… don’ think it’s... too bad,” the little Horror mumbled as he stared intently at the injury, hoping more lightning would conveniently flash to give him another brief instance of light. He couldn’t be sure, but he swears he saw the same rainbow sheen those bone attacks had in the depths of the bleeding magic, though much less vibrant and noticeable. It reminded the Axe somewhat of how motor oil looks in water, but much nicer. His curiosity wanted another glimpse to confirm, but after a few moments the larger bitty gave up and pried his gaze away to look up at the other’s face. “least it’s nothin’ some monster candy can’t-”

His voice halted upon noticing the bright blush on the other’s face. They were looking away all shy and embarrassed, eye lights stuck on a magenta diamond and purple square, but the Axe bitty didn’t care about the bashfulness.

That blush was a freaking rainbow. Brighter and more vibrant and far _richer_ in color than all those bone attacks combined. The Axe pulled down the dress and sat back for a moment, staring at the other in thought.

“…………………………...mine.”

Blinking, blush fading, question marks replaced the diamond and square as the confused bitty looked at the little Horror.

“Uhhh… What?” was all they managed to say before getting scooped up into the larger bitty’s arms, causing a surprised “eep!” to be let out.

“mine,” he repeated simply. Pretty bone attacks, pretty eyes, pretty blood, pretty blush… Yeah, it’s decided. He’s going to keep this cloaked bitty all for himself. 

They’re going to make a nice addition to his collection.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Trigger Warning:** mild blood and graphic violence, and... misgendering? Is that what Axe does? He's confused. I'm confused. Please let me know.
> 
> =========================
> 
> Quote from the lovely friend and beta reader, Amanda:  
> “I'm amazed by Axe lmao he's a fucking CAVEMAN hello you can't just claim a love interest like That”
> 
> Obviously Axe disagrees.


	2. Questionable Home Security

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where Inky tries to nope out at least twice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There be some pretty gruesome stuff in this chapter, so skip down to the bottom notes for trigger warnings.
> 
> =============
> 
> Also, I just added a picture into the story. A quick little thing I did last night. ~~Please don't mind the lines too much. My current sketchbook is for writing. Lots of sketches are going to be like that in the future unfortunately.~~
> 
> I don't know how often I'll make pictures specifically for chapters but I'll edit them into the story when I do. For all other BatB pictures and updates, visit my Undertale Art/Fanfic tumblr blog! :D
> 
> https://cafe-sugar-skull.tumblr.com/

Today has not been a good day.

It was supposed to be though. After years of dreaming it, Inky finally had the opportunity to escape the manor he once called “home”, despite how ill-fitting the word was for such a place. Today was supposed to be one of happiness, elation, as he slipped through a poorly locked window and then sailed his way down a nearby river, towards freedom, in a milk bottle he modified himself to make it sea worthy.

Perhaps if he was a little more patient, Inky would have remembered to check the weather forecast.

He didn’t know that a massive storm was brewing just over the horizon. He didn’t know said storm would cause the river to swell and turn violent, causing him to be sent careening down rough rapids and mini waterfalls. He didn’t know the rain would be so heavy he had to constantly bail water out of his makeshift boat in a vain attempt to keep it afloat.

He didn’t know the years of sitting half buried in the bushes had made the plastic body of his vessel brittle enough to crack and splinter and break when it made contact with any submerged debris Inky was unfortunate enough to bash against. He didn’t know he’d have to abandon a sinking ship and swim ashore with arms already burning with fatigue from scooping out so much water. 

He didn’t know that the safe looking water runoff tunnel he took shelter in was home to rats. He didn’t know they would chase him into a dead end and make him fight a battle he had no hope of winning. Not when he was already so tired… so cold and numb…

He did not know he had to find out the hard way that not having lungs did not spare him the experience of drowning. Of learning how it felt as his magic practically _burned_ as water clogged up his ethereal insides, suffocating him more and more with every breath he was forced to take underwater. Of how panicked and powerless he felt as every attempt to remain above the surface ended in failure under the weight of the ravenous **demon** vying to bite off his face.

No, today has not been a good day. In fact, Inky was willing to admit it had been absolutely _terrible_. Had he known his journey would be composed of such foul luck, the little artist would have stuffed down his building anxieties -worries about his one and only escape route being found and closed- and WAITED for better weather.

But Inky had waited long enough and just wanted out of there as _soon_ as possible, as _far_ as possible, and **never** go back.

So he escaped. Sooner than he probably should have, considering the absolute disaster his attempt had turned into, but it’s not a choice he can take back. No, Inky is stuck with the hand he’s been dealt with.

And he’s still trying to figure out if the cards he has left are any good. Sure, not drowning and/or being ripped to pieces by vermin is great -amazingly fortunate, really- but the sight that greeted the artist once he stumbled back to his feet, gasping for air between coughing fits, was something straight out of a horror film.

The silhouette was large, so much larger than he, and had a striking red eyelight that felt as though it pierced right through his core. That alone frightened Inky, but noticing the bodies of the now dead demons and the large knife the silhouette held was what really inspired him to run.

No. _**No**_. He did **not** want to deal with whatever the hell THIS was supposed to be! With all his soul he just wanted to get away and hide someplace warm and dry. He wanted to be safe.

But then they answered his panicked soul with theirs. Their song was…

Soft…

Gentle…

Calming…

Inky still did not know if this behemoth of a bitty wasn’t going to hurt him, but he was so tired… and much too desperate to believe that their broadcasted intent was true.

So Inky let himself give in to his exhaustion and become vulnerable. Even after the giant’s possessive declaration, he let himself fall asleep in their hold. Hoping that this guy really was as safe as these enveloping arms made him feel.

When he next awoke he was most certainly not in their arms anymore.

Fluttering his eye sockets open, Inky was quick to deduce from the pressing ache in his ribs and his view of the ground that he had been flung over the larger bitty’s shoulder not unlike a sack of potatoes. In the back of the artist’s mind he could not help but feel insulted for not being carried in a more dignified manner, but he was more preoccupied with taking in his surroundings as his sleep-addled mind rebooted.

They were still outside in the rain, but it was no longer such a merciless downpour. Still heavy, but at least Inky now feels he can take in a breath without worrying he’d get a mouthful of water. They were also moving, as he could tell from the slight josling and seeing the back of the larger bitty’s feet peeking out from under their coat as they walked. There was also… light. From street lamps. Though those Inky could have done without.

At least to spare him the sight he saw when he lifted his head.

It was the rats, now long dead, piled high on top of what looks to be a bird. The overhead lights allowed him to see in detail the gruesome wounds that ended them and how lifeless and clouded their eyes are. Inky was frozen in terror at the sight, unable to breathe. It wasn’t until his ride stepped off a cirb -causing the bodies to be jerked around enough to make the barely connected head of a rat finally tear away and roll off- that he finally screamed and tried to scramble away. 

Too close, TOO CLOSE! He was MUCH too close to those corpses. His face was practically right up in the pile! But his instinctual bid to get as far as fuck away from that mess of disease and death as possible was immediately halted. He was held firmly in place by a large hand that was resting squarely on his back.

“ah... yer awake… was wonderin’ how long you’d sleep...”

Inky’s head quickly snapped backwards at the familiar voice. It was gravely, rough, yet somehow soft in its timbre… a jarring contrast to the sharp and impassive enlarged eyelight he was met with. That piercing red glow still scared him, but Inky felt it was preferable to looking at the dead bodies being dragged behind them. 

“How… How long was I out?” the smaller bitty asked with a shaky voice. Was he shivering from the cold or how intimidated he felt? He wasn’t sure. Inky felt the shoulder he was on shrug a response… which made him realize that his ribcage was resting entirely on the shoulder alone, like, holy hell. How broad is this guy?!

“...not long… half hour?” the red-eye bitty replied unsure. Inky gave their surroundings a better look around. They were in the middle of crossing a street bordered by weathered brick buildings. An older part of town maybe? Definitely a change of environment from before. He would have been concerned about them getting squished by passing cars, but as far as Inky can sense there are no people out and about. Not a single song to be heard... They all must be too smart to be outside during this crap weather.

Glancing back at the pile of the corpses, Inky finally noticed that the bigger bitty had all three rat tails and a bird leg held in the curl of his other arm. Whoa… strong boi… It also eases the sting of being treated like a potato sack. It’s kinda hard to carry someone appropriately with one arm, after all. Especially if they are trying not to agitate a cracked femur.

But as understanding as Inky is trying to be of his position, the nasiuiating roil of magic in his nonexistent gut tells him he’s had enough of looking at dead bodies. Pushing himself up, Inky carefully shifted himself until he was sitting comfortably on the other’s shoulder, facing forward away from the morbid sight. His long dress made it difficult, and he had to stifle one or two whimpers from moving his leg, but the strong hand on him helped keep him from falling. Inky felt rather than heard the breathy, quiet chuckle his ride made as his shoulders shook.

“careful there… don’t squeeze too tight…” they spoke, seemingly amused by how Inky hugged his hood covered skull for dear life when the scary bitty climbed up the curb on the other side of the street. The smaller obliged by loosening his hold somewhat, distantly wondering why the skull felt… odd underneath his chest, yet he was too distracted by the sights of the alleyway they were walking into to give it much thought.

“Where are we going?”

“home... almost there…”

Inky is… trying not to judge. He knows that pretty much nowhere else will be as nice as where he was living before. “Opulent” is not a word used to describe most homes, afterall. Especially the home of someone who apparently lives in an alleyway lined with dumpsters and trash cans. He’s still trying not to judge, even when the smell of wet garbage makes his nasal cavity scrunch up in dislike.

He will totally judge, however, the sight of SEVERED ANIMAL HEADS mounted on sticks that eventually greeted them when they turned a corner.

Revulsion and fear immediately filled Inky to the brim upon seeing the severed remains of birds, rats, snakes and… is that a cat head? A cat. Did this guy kill a freaking _**cat**_? HOW?! Those things are freaking scary! And murdery. And… and suddenly Inky is remembering just why his first thought upon seeing the bitty he’s riding was “horror film”.

“Nnnnnnnnnnnnop! Nope, nope, NOPE!!” Inky exclaimed as he tried to jump off the larger bitty’s shoulder and _book it_ as far away from the gruesome sight as possible. “I’m not going down Murder Alley! You can’t make me!”

Unfortunately, the firm and unyielding grip the other had on him proved that, yes, they can very well “make him”. A realization that made dread pool in the pit of Inky’s abdominal cavity. What was once a comforting hold of security suddenly became cold and… concerning. Foreboding, even, of what such absurd strength could mean for him in the future. 

Didn’t… didn’t this guy basically call dibs on him earlier? Say that he’s now “his”? Oh Gods what does that even mean?! 

Meanwhile, as Inky is slowly descending into panic and trying desperately to get the _fuck out of there_ , the large bitty stops at the gap located between the fence composed of sticks and dismembered heads.

“...murder alley?” Inky stops struggling and looks down at the bitty terror incredulously.

“Yes. Murder alley. The alley full of murder,” Inky says as he makes a sweeping gesture at the decaying body parts surrounding them. “I know all the decapitated heads are great for the creepy serial killer vibe you got going on right now but WHY?!!”

“keeps predators away.”

Inky… blinks down at the murder bitty dumbfounded. He could practically feel his eyelights shift from one shape and color to the next in confusion as he just takes that nugget of info in.

“.........Really?”

“yep.” 

“Why???”

The larger bitty then drops his hold on the dead animals he’s been dragging around so he could free his hand to point up at… him? Inky then points at himself just to double check and the other simply nods his head. The artist takes the time to puzzle this out. Thinking about himself, how he’s doing, how-

……….how he wanted to get the hell out of dodge as soon as he saw the piked heads.

“...OH” Inky breathes with sudden understanding. The serial killer nodded his head again and let out a grunt of confirmation.

“yep... natural ta want ta stay away from places wit’ dead things. ‘specially if it includes yer species… no one wants ta go down murder alley.”

“WELL! I can certainly agree with that.”

Inky now looks back at the collection of animal heads with a new appreciation. Well… somewhat of an appreciation. He can admit that the big bitty’s reasoning is, umm… reasonable. Very practical actually. Decor with a purpose. However the artist finds himself hard pressed giving this his stamp of approval considering how the whole thing is so disturbing… and demented… and looks absolutely horrific… and smells nauseating… Honestly, why can’t animals just turn to dust like bitties and Monsters do? Decomposition is just so _disgusting_.

Still…

“Erm… one of the… rat heads fell off earlier, so umm…” Inky said awkwardly as he pointed behind them and, yep, the head was still there, lying on the wing of the Blue Jay. He’s surprised it hadn’t rolled off completely after they climbed that second curb, but it’s still there, just like how he remembered it. The artist is not at all certain what possessed him to try to be “helpful”, but perhaps it’s just him trying to be accepting of what he could only hope actually is an effective security measure instead of a demented decoration preference.

Mr. Dismember turned to see where the smaller was pointing and hummed thoughtfully before bending down to grab the head with his free hand. He then approached one of the pikes with a rat head in an advanced stage of decomposition and removed it in favor of replacing it with the new one. It made a sickening squish kind of sound with a crack of bone as the stick was stabbed into the cranium. Inky grimaced severely at the exchange, really wishing he didn’t watch that.

“thanks... need ta change these things out every so often.”

“Please don’t tell me that.”

The axe murderer let out another huff of a laugh at his apparently funny reaction before scooping up the bundle of limbs and continuing his trek past the collection of heads. Inky resigned himself to his fate of going down Murder Alley, hoping that the guy’s house wasn’t coated in blood or whatever else you could expect in the home of a classic horror movie serial killer. Like rusty bear traps. Or hanging organs. Oh that would be just _lovely_. A wonderful topper to what has been such a _delightful_ evening, wouldn’t it?

Inky swears, if he sees a skin blanket or some other fucked up shit like that he is OUT OF THERE. Busted leg be damned.

Soon the larger bitty walked up some makeshift steps and Inky no longer felt the constant barrage of raindrops on his tiny body. A welcomed relief he didn’t even know he wanted until now. The little artist reached up curiously and felt a ceiling made of bumpy metal before he was suddenly lifted off the other’s shoulder and carefully set down on a seat. Is this a box? A piece of wood? It feels like it could be a broken piece of wood. Inky can’t really tell since it’s still so dark. All he could see was the bigger bitty’s red eye light moving around, bobbing up and down as its owner picked things up here and there and placed them somewhere in front of him. Then a match was struck, looking much like a medieval torch in the other’s hand as it was used to light a fire in an old tuna fish can filled with sticks and torn newspaper. 

The radiating warmth feels absolutely amazing, causing Inky to let out a content sigh as the heat began its work to dry his thoroughly soaked body. In the glow of the newly stoaked flames, he was finally able to get a good look at his macabre yet technical savoir. 

This bitty is... large. Definitely much larger than him, barrel chested, and the few bones he could see were thick, but for as big as the guy was his clothing was bigger. They fit him well, but even with the water making the fabric heavy and clingy it was obvious his clothes were all large and comfy cozy. The collar of his off-white turtleneck sweater is especially big, easily obscuring his lower face with room to spare with how the fabric has been flipped up. This comfortable look is well favored among the Sans-personality types, Inky noticed, but this guy’s attire was also on the ratty side. He could see several patches sewn into the fabric of the other’s light blue parka jacket in attempts at repair, and his sweater has several small holes and stitches in it. 

Overall though, the look of this bitty was just one of having been weathered by time, the elements, and the light of the sun. As the red-eyed giant tossed the remains of his match into the fire, the artist could even see chips and grooves and nicks in the other’s hands. Surprisingly though his feet were slid into fuzzy, grey slippers of fairly good condition that matched the fluffy trim of his coat. They are dirty and well-worn like all his clothes, but still in good shape. Possibly because they are bitty footwear and thus need to be just as durable as a Boss’s boots or a Lil’ Bro’s sneakers. An owner would get fussy about needing to replace a pair of flimsy soft slippers so much more often otherwise.

………...Wait a minute… Blue jacket, fuzzy soft slippers, black basketball shorts… is this guy a Sansy? Inky doesn’t remember Sansys looking so scary. Or big. Maybe this is just what living on the street does to a bitty? It would at least help explain why he has a single, enlarged red eyelight... he got hurt and had to live with the injury.

Standing up from the fire, the larger bitty turned his attention back on him. “stay put…” the other mumbles, “m’ gonna’ get some bandages.” And then he walks the short distance towards a clothed doorway and disappears behind the fabric.

Now that he is alone and there is light, Inky takes the chance to see where he is, which seems to be underneath some kind of… stepping stool? A long one, nice and big. An old metal stool that would have looked much sturdier if the underside wasn’t completely rusted out. It serves its purpose as cover well, but it certainly should not be stepped on by anything bigger than a bitty.

One side of the stool is open to the alleyway, the other side straight across from it is flush against a large, wooden crate. That’s where the clothed doorway was, which seemed to have been roughly carved out of the wood. The remaining two sides are covered with what the artist could only assume are black trash bags to provide additional protection from the elements. The side farthest from him is where the rat and bird bodies were deposited. Inky made it a point to keep his eyelights off the grisly sight. 

Oh, and they seem to be on a raised platform of some sort. Maybe they’re on top of a stack of trash? That would explain the steps from earlier... Which is good because with rain like this the guy’s makeshift home would have been flooded out a while ago. This higher elevation will ensure they and this fire will stay warm and dry for the rest of the night.

Speaking of being dry, the artist finally thought to remove his cloak heavy with rain water and drape it over the side of his seat, which was in fact a broken piece of wood. It and his dress should be able to dry quicker like this.

His dress… It used to be such a beautiful thing with intricate patterns and skilled stitch work. Now it was torn all over from rat scratches and stained horribly with mud, grass, and his own marrow. Part of him was sad to see it so damaged, but… a bigger part took delight in its ruin. It made him smile.

Yes, today has been terrible. Absolutely traumatic, for several reasons in fact, but... this ruined dress reminds him that today was also, despite everything, the best day he’s had in years. Yeah, sure, he almost died a couple times but he also lived. He’s free. For the first time in all his life he was able to take the reins and make his own decisions. His own choices.

Poorly made choices like running away before a massive storm, but they were still his own choices all the same. And it will probably continue to be such a weirdly good day, regardless of whatever this Sansy may have in store for him.

……………..Hopefully whatever this guy DOES have in store for him doesn’t include a knife to the face.

It would be really disappointing if he died so soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: dead animals, dismembered body parts, and inappropriate use of said body parts
> 
> ===========================================
> 
> *when regarding Axe’s security system*  
> Axe: "This is fine"  
> Inky: "THIS IS NOT FINE"
> 
> ===========================================
> 
> Fun Facts:  
> I have a stepping stool much like the one in the story. Every time I use it rust flakes off the underside and it terrifies me. I’m just waiting for the day it collapses on me and slices up my legs.
> 
> Also, Axe’s macabre security isn’t really bullshit. On a field trip I once saw a vulture hanging in the middle of a parking lot. Apparently it was to keep the other vultures away so that they wouldn’t peck at the tires. Effective technique too, apparently. I’ve also found that sharing this story with people on the internet was a good way to get people to stop talking to me.
> 
> ===========================================
> 
> Reference art, woo! \o\


	3. When you just gotta poke something

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where Axe mends a leg and Inky can't keep his fucking hands to himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bitty culture tidbit for the day~ :D
> 
> =============
> 
> **.:Soul Father:.**  
>  A Bitty term referring to the monster soul a bitty’s soul shard originated from. A play on the word “forefather”. Humans and Monsters both, especially those working for the Bitty Company, prefer using the impersonal title of “Predecessor”, but since the typical Bitty social structure revolves around the concept of family (being adopted, referring to owners in parental terms such as “mama”, etc) this is reflected in how they view the Monsters that came before them.

Flicking on the switch of an electric tea candle, Axe pushed his sopping wet hood off his skull as he carried the light past his myriad of possessions over to where he knew he kept his med kit. It was an altoids tin filled with supplies like bandages, peroxide, cotton balls, and pieces of monster candy. Or at least it would have candy… Opening the tin up confirmed that, yes, he already used the last of the magical treat. He’ll need to steal more at a later time, but everything else should help for now. Although he wonders… _Should_ he give monster candy to the cloaked bitty? Or even fix their leg at all? Keeping the pretty china doll all to himself would be much easier if they couldn’t walk.

Having closed the container, Axe ticked his clawed phalanges against the metal lid in thought. As he considered the possibility though, he found his contemplation leading him to an... unexpected place. 

The Horror isn’t really one to care about others. It’s just not something he thinks he’s capable of. In all his life Axe doesn’t think he’s ever once felt true concern for another… but the idea of subjecting someone to undue and unnecessary pain or suffering, especially someone who didn’t do anything to earn it, curiously left him feeling sick.

Perplexed by this discomfort in his soul, Axe soon found himself absently rubbing his arm. He felt the gnarled bumps and grooves of ossified scar tissue through the fabric of his jacket, reminding him of days long past that he was better off forgetting. Eventually he decided... no… No, he thinks he will refrain from inflicting what he could only label as torture upon this smaller bitty. He doesn’t know what else to call the act of purposefully keeping a leg broken. Especially considering how he’d have to keep rebreaking it to keep the non-walking benefit. 

Yes, he’ll heal the colorful bitty up proper, as he said he would, and then… figure out the logistics of imprisoning them later. Could he perhaps use rope? Does he have rope? 

…...Yeah he probably has rope, or at least yarn, but what would be even better was if he stuffed the colorful one into one of those small, glass display cases and locked them in. A pretty cage for a very pretty bitty. Yeah... maybe he’ll do that.

Thoughts decided, Axe picked up his med kit, weaved his way back to the entrance, and returned a now flicked off tea candle to its proper place. He then exited his home to find that the cloaked bitty was no longer wearing their cloak, and for some reason, was smiling happily at their damaged dress.

He doesn’t know what there was to be happy about; that dress is ruined. Between all the stains and slashes there is no saving it, which is a damn shame. Now that there’s light, Axe can finally see that the gown was originally primarily white and pink with gold accents and some fancy embroidered filigree designs stitched in with gold thread. In its prime, the dress looked as if it were once something he would have squirreled away for his collection. Something beautiful and very nice.

……..A little TOO nice now that he thinks about it. Walking closer, Axe could plainly see that the dress seems to be of a very high quality. The cloak as well. Draped out to dry, the larger was able to note that it was made with a rich black velvet material with a trim of pure white fur. It even has a golden button clasp, which looks as if it could be made of actual gold for how it gleamed in the fire light. THAT he would have definitely hoarded, especially since it seems it was spared any major damage. He’ll make sure to let the smaller bitty keep it, though, for the coming Fall and Winter.

Whoever this china doll is, they’re a long way from home... There’s nothing that fancy out here in the slums.

Humming in thought, Axe kneeled down next to the fancy bitty as he placed the altoids tin upon the piece of wood acting as a bench. “ya hurt anywhere else...?” he asked in his soft and raspy voice. Inky startled slightly at the words, having not noticed the behemoth approaching at all. 

For such a large bitty they were surprisingly quiet. The little artist was about to answer, but as soon as he looked up any color his skull held had paled. Even his eyelights drained of its typically vibrant hues to shift into a white X and a pale green exclamation point just before he flinched violently and very nearly jumped out of his seat.

“hOLy FRICK! What the hell happened to your head?!” Inky yelled tactlessly. He thought this guy looked scary before but that head crack was the stuff of nightmares! Axe merely kneeled there confused until he remembered that oh, right, he’s had his hood up all this time. Part of him wanted to pull it back up. To hide the deformity that even he has trouble looking at sometimes. His hand even lifted partway to enact the action, but he stuffed the inclination down and diverted the appendage to rub the back of his cervical vertebra instead.

“nothin’,” Axe answered calmly, shrugging. “it’s fine...”

“A giant hole in the head is NOT fine! HOW ARE YOU STILL ALIVE?!”

Wow. Still no tact. Although this sort of reaction was… not an uncommon one. More than once people have tried to pick the Horror up off the street to rush him to a doctor of some kind, thinking he was critically injured. Axe would appreciate the sentiment more if it weren’t so annoying. He’s got food to catch and supplies to scavenge for. A visit to the vet just throws a wrench into all of that. Only good that comes from it is the chance to raid their stash of cotton balls. Lacking any sort of real answer to offer the colorful bitty, the little Horror facetiously said “magic~” complete with jazz hands.

The smaller bitty gave him a dirty look, completely disgusted by the classic explanation for all things magical that everyone and their mother like to use. Eyelights now a red diamond and purple spade.

“No. Don’t you give me that Monster bullcrap. I want a real answer.” Axe could not help the quiet snort that escaped him. He sure is laughing a lot today. Opening the med kit, the larger bitty pulled out a bottle cap and stood up.

“don’ know wha’ ta tell ya,” he said as he walked up to the edge of the stepping stool and stuck the cap out into the pouring rain. “‘m jus’ made this way…”

“You were made… with a hole in your head,” Inky deadpanned with blatant disbelief as he watched Axe collect water droplets in the bottle cap. Then a thought struck him and he continued by asking “Wait, so you’re not a Sansy?”

A giant Sansy that looked like he got thrown into a wall a little too hard. The larger bitty, cap now full of cool liquid, shook his head “no” as he walked back.

“Huh… so if I poke the cracks it won’t hurt?”

Upon hearing that question, Axe very nearly spilled his water as he sat back down in front of the other. He looked up at the smaller incredulously. Everyone, literally everyone, he’s ever met has treated the giant crack in his head delicately. Humans, Monsters, even other Axe bitties don’t want to mess with it out of fear of worsening the fracture... and then there’s this guy.

Wanting to poke at a gaping wound.

It’s not hypothetical. The smaller bitty is brimming with obvious curiosity, hand twitching like as though he’s keeping himself back from going on ahead and finding out the answer for himself. Eyelights a green crosshair and orange sun. Axe stares at him for a few moments, not sure how to feel about this. Should he feel insulted? Angry? Deciding that he at least wasn’t uncomfortable with the idea, the larger bitty angled his head down closer to the other as an open invitation to investigate.

Inky’s eyelights dilated, nearly filling his sockets with a yellow triangle and green star as an excited grin grew on his face. Axe smiled beneath the fabric of his turtleneck, causing his eye sockets to crinkle with amusement. A smile that stayed even when a curious finger pressed itself against a jagged edge.

“Did that hurt?”

“no.”

Axe could feel the finger slide to another jutting fragment of bone where it was pinched and gently wiggled back and forth.

“Did _that_ hurt?”

“no... though i ask ya not ta do tha’ any harder.”

“Okay.”

The Horror Sans then felt those same fingers run across the gapping hole’s sharp edges with a feather light touch, curiosity and amazement clearly written on the smaller’s face. Orange star, green flower. Those tracing touches felt nice… nice enough for Axe’s boney eyelids to close as he enjoyed the sensation… right before little hands grabbed the side of his skull and yanked him down forward. A grunt of surprise was made by the much larger bitty before he felt his face get pushed into a tiny lap.

“Holy crap! I can see your eyelight from here!” Inky exclaimed as he peered into the black abyss only to see a big red circle contorting its shape to mimic confused blinking. Oh wow! That’s so cool! He has never seen eyelights do that before! That’s so weird!

“Can I stick my hand in?” Inky asks suddenly and, without thinking about it, proceeds to lift an appendage to put into the gaping hole so that he can finally answer the burning question of what the heck the inside of a bitty skull feels like.

A hand much bigger, much rougher than his, gently grabs Inky’s forearm and pulls the curious limb away before it could intrude.

“maybe after we fix yer leg...” Axe said as he lifted his face out of Inky’s lap. Bone brow raised, a glimpse of a smile spotted underneath the turtleneck, Inky could see that the bitty was clearly amused and… very close. Much closer than he should be.

……… Wait a minute. 

Face exploding into color, any remaining contact the smaller bitty had upon Axe was yanked away as though he were burned. “O-Oh! Right! Sorry! I… I forgot, umm…!” Inky said, completely mortified. The little artist is not unaware of how impulsive and careless he can be sometimes… but seriously?! He just shoved a stranger’s face into his crotch! What the hell, Inky?!

The colorful one continued to stumble his way through his frantic apology, but the Horror barely heard it. He was much too distracted by the rainbow glowing from the smaller’s cheeks and the revolving eyelights. They just changed from a green ellipses and cyan hourglass to a magenta exclamation point and pink inverted heart. Huh… Axe is starting to suspect these colors and symbols actually mean something.

Humming to himself, Axe manages to tear his eyes away from the pretty light display and returns his attention to the med kit. From it he pulls out two scraps of cloth. One for him, one for the china doll.

“‘ere…” Axe mumbles as he hands the other a cloth strip. “look fer more wounds. clean ‘em up… corrupted magic is not fun ta deal wit’.” Inky nods in understanding. He watches Axe dunk his piece of fabric into the water and wrings it out before doing the same. The little artist lets out an alarmed squeak when the stranger suddenly lifts his dress, but he stuffs down the knee jerk reaction to shove the offender away and proceeds to scrub his skull furiously, ignoring his growing embarrassment.

_‘He’s just treating your leg. He’s not being a pervert. Don’t kick him, DON’T KICK HIM’_ Inky thinks to himself like a mantra over and over again. Meanwhile Axe examines the wounded femur with a curious tilt to the head.

The bone is definitely cracked. It looks pretty bad but not bad enough to worry about the leg falling off. It’s just one long clean line running the length of the femur. What’s curious though is the color of the bone. Oddly enough it’s a dark grey. Is that natural? And there are… black etchings resembling swirling tattoos. Old wounds? Or some kind of intentional body art? Back in the ditch he thought they were smaller injuries but it doesn’t look like it. Lifting up his soaked rag, Axe carefully and gently began cleaning up the inky black marrow.

“so... ya got a name?”

Inky opens his mouth to answer, but then quickly shuts his teeth with a click. He pauses his washing movements, looking out into nothing in what seems to be melancholic contemplation before his expression soured into disdain. Red four pointed star, purple check mark. 

“No… Not anymore,” he finally responded. Axe halted his careful cleaning and looked up. The colorful bitty’s gaze is distant and a touch angry, a touch sad. “i see…” the Horror mumbles softly before going back to work washing the cracked leg. “don’ ‘ave any name i’d care ta use either.”

The artist’s sights suddenly snapped back to Axe, double exclamation point eyelights. Surprise marked his features before softening in understanding. Blue gem, cyan flower.

To a bitty, a name is… a treasure. When your kind is mass produced, anything that will help you stand out in a crowd of hundreds of look-alikes, help you establish your own identity, is greatly valued. However, a name is so much more than that. It is a declaration of care, of affectionate intent. A statement that says, out of thousands, you matter. Matter to me. It is a promise that you will be loved and valued. When the whole reason for why you exist, for why you are alive, is for the express purpose of being someone’s pet, such a promise means everything.

For a bitty to willingly discard a name… it means that promise was broken.

Something of which they both seem to have in common.

“guess tha’ means ya didn’ jus’ get lost, did ya?” Inky solemnly nodded his head yes. Axe let out a huff of air as he dunked his rag into the bottle cap, turning the water within black. “‘kay then… wha’ does the little runaway want ta be called?” asked Axe as he glanced up during his washing. He noticed that the smaller bitty looked uncomfortable and uncertain with the question. Understandable. Bitties don’t like to name themselves.

He also noticed that despite the other’s skull now looking squeaky clean, free of dirt and debris, they missed a huge splotch on their right cheek. Thinking nothing of it, Axe reached up with his rag to wipe the smudge away… only to find it still there. His bone brows went up in surprise and he tried again. Inky, far from perturbed with the other’s attempts, grinned knowingly with eyelights switching to a mischievous orange pentagram and a mirthful yellow sun.

“Did you get it?” he asked, highly amused. Axe huffed out a “no” as he glared at the unyielding mark. He tried once more, making sure to wipe the cheek with slow and gentle yet firm strokes.

Nothing about the smudge changed. Axe sat back, thoroughly miffed, and pointed at the splotch.

**“why?”**

It was such a disgruntled, firm question demanding of answers that the colorful bitty couldn’t help but laugh. Which only served to annoy the larger even more. Inky shrugged his shoulders playfully.

“Don’t know what to tell you,” he echoed the larger’s words from earlier. “That’s just how I’m made. All Inkies have an un-washable splotch on their cheek.”

“inky?” the Horror repeated, annoyance replaced with calm curiosity. “never heard of tha’ breed.”

“I’m not surprised,” they replied. The Inky then straightened their back and laced their hands in their lap, looking proud and dignified with a yellow star in one socket and a turquoise circle in the other. Meanwhile, Axe set down his rag to pull a contact lens container out of the altoids tin along with a handful of white he ripped off a cotton ball.

“I’m a premium brand! Of the Duality collection. Extra rare. One of the rarest bitty-types there is! It’s apparently so hard to harvest Inky soul shards that bitty factories can only produce a handful of us a year! There’s even a waiting list and every-AH!”

The smaller bitty breathed a hiss as he looked down at his leg. A piece of cotton soaked in some sort of fluid was pressed against the crack in his femur. The pressure is gentle, but boy did it sting something fierce! The opened contact lens container has a… sharp odor of some sort wafting up from the clear liquid within. Inky could see a messily written “Peroxide” scrawled on the lid.

“waitin’ list, huh? impressive...” hummed the larger bitty as he continued to disinfect the wound. “guess tha’ means no inkies in any pet stores.”

The colorful one was surprised by the quick deduction, but yes. A waiting list means Inkies are bought directly from the bitty company, which means they’re never in any pet stores, which means most bitties know nothing about them. Not even the ones in the specialty stores with the rarer breeds. Axe thinks it a little unfair for the Inkies to be guaranteed an owner upon awakening… but life’s like that for just about everything, ain’t it? Being expensive and coveted certainly didn’t do this china doll here any favors though. Not if the lot they drew in life led them to run away and get nearly killed in a ditch.

“Ah, yeah,” Inky answered as he looked over the rest of his body for any wounds now that his face is _extra_ clean thanks to the bigger bitty. “Kinda hard to know what something is if it’s never where you can see it.” The smaller bitty frowned, having found a few scratches and scrapes. Nothing serious, but… Inky glanced over at the peroxide for a moment before reaching for the nearby cotton ball and ripped off a chunk. The chemical’s disinfecting sting caused him to grimace as he gingerly dabbed it against the minor injuries.

“Since I don’t have anything else, umm… I guess you can just call me ‘Inky’.” The little Horror nodded, finding this naming solution acceptable.

“in tha’ case… call me ‘axe’. from the horrortale product line.”

“Axe? Horrortale?” Inky shook his head, amusement glimmering in his rainbow eyelights. “You know, that makes so much sense. ‘Cause you really do look like you belong in… a… wait a minute.”

Yellow ellipses. Cyan hourglass. Deep, thoughtful expression… Then they switched to a white exclamation point and a red X as their face blanched.

“...Axe bitty… You’re an AXE bitty? The… same bitty-type that has to go through rigorous psychological testing before they can be sold in stores?” Axe nodded. If it were possible, Inky’s skull paled even more as dread creeped in.

“The… the same type well known for… new owners needing to sign a waver… acknowledging that their new bitty might try to kill them?”

Another nod. Visible panic and fear was starting to set in as Inky began to subconsciously lean away from the suddenly oh so much more _terrifying_ bitty.

“The same type… that’s supposed to be so unpredictable… so psychotic… that not even bitty FIGHTING RINGS want anything to do with them?! THAT Axe bitty!?!”

Axe started to nod again but stopped himself partway through after fully processing what the smaller bitty said. “........they don’ want us?” he asked with a perplexed expression.

“No! Of course not!” Inky exclaimed as he threw his hands into the air. “You guys are known for killing your trainers OUT OF SPITE! No one wants to deal with that!”

Holy shit no. No, no, no, no, no, just NO. It’s one thing to _suspect_ someone to be psychotic. THAT is something Inky can deal with. It’s an entirely other thing for that suspicion to be confirmed! Oh this is JUST his luck! Go from being nearly drowned and eaten by rats to being at the mercy of one of the most murderous bitty-types to ever walk out of an incubation chamber! The hell did Inky’s Soul Father even DO in his past life? Was he some sort of rainbow asshole or something? Because his karma sucks!

Axe hummed in thought at Inky’s reasoning as he pulled a long strip of fabric and a toothpick out of the med kit. “yeah... sounds ‘bout right,” he agreed easily. It made sense, and certainly would be something he himself would do if forced to do anything like bitty fighting by a cruel owner. With supplies to make a splint in hand, the little Horror turned back to the leg to find it…

Not there.

Looking up, Axe could see Inky slowly scooting himself away along the wooden bench. His eyelights darting over to the pouring rain as though he’s going to make a break for it, fractured femur be damned. As soon as he noticed Axe looking at him though his colorful eyelights shrunk to tiny pinpricks so small he couldn’t even tell what shapes they were supposed to be. The Horror bitty’s own eyelight reshaped itself to give the smaller a deadpan look. An unsaid ‘really?’ being plainly communicated.

Unimpressed by the other’s behavior, the much larger bitty reached over and grabbed Inky by the sides to lift him up and put him back in his original place. The tiny artist let out a scream of bloody murder as soon as he touched him and tried to struggle out of his grasp, pushing against the hands that firmly held him in place. Axe rolled his one eyelight slightly annoyed.

“stop tha’,” Axe huffed. “i passed my evaluation… stop freakin’ out before i even do anythin’.”

“Oh did you now?” responded Inky as he squinted his sockets at Axe dubiously. “And how would I know you’re not lying?”

“‘cause they woulda dusted me back at the factory if i didn’.”

Inky’s expression fell, horrified and shocked. “S…Seriously?” he squeaked. Axe nodded and slowly let his hold go on the china doll before picking up the toothpick and measuring it against their fractured femur. Seems like the risk of them running away and breaking their leg in two has passed.

“no point keepin’ product ya can’t sell…”

“Wow. That’s harsh............ I kinda feel like a dick now.”

Okay. So his Soul Father WAS a rainbow asshole, because Inky certainly feels like one right now. Good to know. Axe snorted a quiet laugh though, so at least he doesn’t seem offended.

“tis fine…” the little Horror bitty softly reassured as he broke the toothpick to the correct length. He then wrapped the strip of cloth around and around the splint and bone. Tight, but not too tight, to make sure the femur is firmly set and supported. It was… quiet… Too quiet.

Axe glanced up at the bitty who has been an absolute chatterbox this whole time and noticed that, despite admitting they were a dick for their hasty judgement, they were still very nervous. Scared looking. The larger bitty took in the calm of the silence and falling rain, distant thunder cracking in the background, thinking, as he tied the bandage off. He leaned back to admire his work for a moment before bowing his broken skull down towards the smaller bitty. They seemed confused.

“said ya could stick yer hand in after finishin’... remember?”

Axe could tell when sudden comprehension hit when two enormous stars filled Inky’s eye sockets. White and magenta replaced by green and orange as an excited smile grew bright on their face. Axe could feel his own teeth pull into a grin of his own behind the cozy fabric of his sweater at the sight. 

Tiny hands immediately darted up to grab the sides of Axe’s head but stopped short of actually pulling the skull down. After a moment’s hesitation, Inky thought better of making the same mistake twice and awkwardly rose to his feet. Putting weight on his injured leg still hurts, but it certainly feels much better than before.

Absently brushing the hem of his dress down as he stared at the gapping crevice, Inky then carefully reached into the dark void within. Axe twitched in discomfort as the little artist brushed his fingers lightly around the sides of the inner cranium, but he did not stop them. Inky thought it felt… odd? Tingly. Thick. Like as though the medium within was denser and more… viscous than air. Magic maybe? Probably. The walls felt more like what he expected though: smooth and… warm.

“Oops, sorry,” Inky said as he felt his fingers bump into a repelling force of some kind and realized he hit the giant, red eyelight. Axe let out a pained grunt but still did not stop the artist’s exploration. Inky then carefully maneuvered his phalanges to the other eye socket and stuck his fingers through it.

“Holy crap, this is so cool.”

Inky’s smile widened further when he pulled his gaze away from the black void to look at Axe’s face. It was so weird to see his little digits peek out of the empty socket like this. Then, the socket closed. A bony eyelid clamping down on the intruding fingers with a barely there force, allowing Inky to reflexively pull his hand wigglers free easily while he squeaked and giggled in surprise. From his higher angle, the little artist could plainly see the mischievous grin the other had.

Still smiling bright himself, Inky reached down deeper into the skull and-

Screeched loudly when his finger tips made contact with something hot and wet.

“AAHHH! BRAIN GOOP!!” Inky screamed as he yanked his arm out of the skull cavity’s abyss, tearing some of the sleeve up when it caught on a jagged edge.

Axe jerked back himself, startled by the sudden screaming. He stared at Inky for a few seconds quietly, utterly dumbstruck, stunned, processing what the smaller just screeched before dissolving into a booming fit of laughter that had him doubled over holding his nonexistent stomach.

“This is NOT funny!” Inky yelled, looking upset and absolutely indignant. Frantically switching eyelights of red, green, deep blue, and white piercing into him. “I touched your brain goop! Oh my god I am SO sorry!”

Axe waved a hand in the air to try to calm the other down as he attempted to do the same for himself. Stars! He hasn’t laughed like that since… never. Axe thinks this may be the loudest he’s ever been, period.

Taking in deep breaths, the larger bitty settled down enough so that he only let out a few more breathy chuckles. “not... hehe… brain goop,” he reassured, looking completely amused with his eye sockets crinkled in mirth and his smile so wide that it peeked out from behind the turtleneck. To prove it, Axe stood up and angled his head down until a clear liquid started to pour from the empty eye socket. A sight that initially freaked Inky out.

“NO! What are you doing?! Don’t- …………….Wait a minute… That’s water!”

Rainwater. The same water that was sloshing around in his head since before finding Inky. Axe couldn’t help the second wave of booming laughter that came over him; the tiny china doll looks so pissed. 

“Meanie! I thought I hurt you!” they exclaimed before hopping up on their good leg to grab the fur trim of his hood and pull it over his head, smushing the fluff and fabric over his face.

“Suffocate and die, you jerk.”

Holy crap, he just might.

But no. Shoulders bouncing in restrained laughter, Axe delicately took hold of the tiny hands trying to kill him and gently pulled them away from their grip on the hood, allowing the Horror to look down at the smaller. They seemed mad, but the twitch in their frown and yellow sunlight eyelight betrayed their amusement with the situation. No more nervousness. No more fear. Much better.

“hehehe... darn… guess tha’ means no dinner.”

Inky’s sockets widened and lost its faux anger. At the mention of food a deep rumble was heard vibrating from the other’s soul. “Dinner?” the smaller asked hopefully. Axe nodded and gestured to the forgotten pile of dead bodies. Immediately Inky’s expression turned to offended disgust, eliciting another chuckle out of the bigger bitty.

“it’s fine. will look tasty soon enough…” Axe said as he bent down to pack up the medical supplies into the altoids tin. “besides... i ‘ear revenge tastes delicious.”

Eyelights shift into exclamation points as Inky looks between Axe and the rats. Before long they turned into an orange crosshair and a yellow skull as he stared at the rodent that tried to drown him with a giant smile.

“Dibs on the face stabbed one!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inky, baby, sweetie… Bitties don’t have goopy bits. You should _know_ this. :'D
> 
> Also, “Suffocate and die, you jerk” is now my most favorite thing I’ve ever written.


	4. But I want it

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Inky wakes up the morning after being taken in by Axe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guys, guess what? It's my Birthday! So that means you all get yourselves a chapter two days early! I hope you like it~ :D

The two of them ate well that night.

Objectively it was not the best tasting meal Inky ever had. The little bit of spice they used went a long way, but so much more flavor can be brought out of meat when prepared by an expert chef. Still, Inky found the rats to be extremely satisfying. Axe may have been onto something when he said revenge tastes delicious, but Inky thinks it was mostly the ravenous hunger he built up over a day full of terror and activity that made dinner so enjoyable. Magic belly full of food, it did not take long for the smaller bitty to fall into a deep sleep.

Deep… but not peaceful.

Nightmares flitted in and out of Inky’s subconscious all night long, plaguing him with unwanted visions. 

He was being chased through the dark by screeching voices, legs heavy from the strain of running through a viscous liquid that stuck to him, slowing his every movement. A heavy weight then pounced upon him from behind, forcing him down and under the surface of that watery substance that seemed all too eager to suck him further and further into its depths.

Inky pushed up but the weight grew heavier all the while claws dug into his back, slicing into bone. He screamed but that only allowed the cold liquid to invade his insides until there was no room left to breathe, no room left for air. He panicked, he struggled, he felt his eye sockets sting as tears left them and mixed with the surrounding darkness. Hot spiking pain was felt when sharp teeth bit at his head, causing it to crack and break as the demon gnawed a giant hole into his skull. 

Inky will feel himself be torn apart before suffocation could take him.

But suddenly his surroundings warmed as red seeped into the black and the weight was lifted. Inky felt a soft song enveloping him, calming him, as giant hands of bone pulled him up and out of the water. Large arms clad in pale blue helped to steady the little artist as he regained his footing, and held him gently as he coughed up the vile substance that tried to smother him. Inky felt himself grin happily as he turned to look up at the face of his savoir… only for him to blanch while his soul dropped into a pit of freezing despair.

The face under the fur trimmed hood was familiar and human, his lips pulling into a carefully practiced expression that faked warmth and fondness. The grip this man had on the artist was iron tight, unyielding, suffocating in its own way as Inky desperately tried to pull himself free.

But he couldn’t, and the artist knew deep down he’d never be able to escape his grasp again. The sheer hopelessness made him cry, made him sob.

Made him wish the rat had killed him instead.

…………………   
The nightmare ended when Inky awoke with a loud gasp. 

The little bitty panted heavily, as if for the entire dream he had been holding his breath and was only just now allowed to breathe. For one cruel moment, Inky thought he was back in the manor. That all of yesterday was just as much a dream as that nightmare was. However as the artist’s racing soul slowed and he got his bearings, Inky found that this was most certainly not his old bedroom.

He is buried deep in softness. Sunlight filtered through a sky blue fabric that is decidedly not made of the silk he is so familiar with. The old, musty smell that clung to it, enveloping him completely, is a reassuring presence… as are the muffled, distant sounds of a waking city. What really sold this reality, however, was the stabbing pain that shot through Inky when he moved his injured leg the wrong way. The throbbing grounded him, proving to the little bitty that he really is here far from “home”.

A sigh of relief left Inky’s teeth.

He is safe.

Part of him was groggily pleading for five more minutes, but that nightmare was a bit too upsetting for him to want to go back to sleep so soon. Curious of the world beyond his plush and cozy burrow, Inky pushed back the bedding and poked his little head out above the mound of sky blue linen.

Inky breathed in a gasp. This place was… It was most certainly NOT at all what he was expecting from a Horrortale bitty. Especially one with decapitated animal heads just outside the front door.

Axe’s home appears to be housed inside a large wooden crate that is absolutely filled wall to wall with a number of curious trinkets and shiny objects that reflect the morning sun prettily. Beautifully decorated boxes made the stairs and differing levels, polished gemstones and pretty rocks sat around like decor, and patterned scarves and embroidered fabrics acted as tapestry and bedding. Inky’s own bed was just a collection of cloth of all different colors piled together and fluffed up comfortably. It is very soft and plush, rivaling even his old bed back at the manor with its high end price tag.

But stars… the most impressive sight came from looking up above. The top of the very tall crate has been sawed open but a pane of glass covers the hole, allowing for a large amount of sunlight to pour in while keeping the elements out. The walls also have fondue forks all over stabbed deep into the wood with each one having jewelry, colorful feathers, and prisms hanging from their handles. Prisms and anything else that refracted light were a favorite it seemed, as there are reflected rainbow lights shining everywhere.

It is all just so… beautiful… though hardly coordinated. Beautiful only because it was composed of beautiful things. An eclectic collection where everything looked piled up, stored, and added on as the pretties trickled in without much thought. It was a lovely, cluttered mess.

The only semblance of order here was that there are pathways marked out with quilt patterns that were somehow pinned to the floor. Even the platform his rainbow bedding is bunched up on and the “stairs” leading up to it have soft, patterned fabric covering them. These paths went over, around, and through the mountains of trinkets, with some quilts seemingly leading further below and out of sight. It ignited the imagination and just made Inky want to dig through it all to see what secrets and treasures were hidden among all this loot.

Eager and smiling, Inky bolted out of his rainbow bedding to explore before letting out a pained yelp. He tripped and tumbled over the edge of the box his nest had been set upon. Falling thankfully only a short distance, but still he fell to the floor below with just as much grace as a walrus doing ballet. His face was the first to hit the ground with a thud, causing him to let out muffled expletives into the floor.

He had forgotten about his injured leg… At least it seems he failed to break anything else.

Sitting up undeterred, rubbing his possibly bruised nasal ridge, Inky looked about himself and took in what pretties were within crawling range. He had his sights set on a small glass container full of marbles and was about to limp over when he heard it… Snoring. Soft sounds of sleep. Now that the artist thinks about it, where is Axe? He must be sleeping somewhere nearby for him to hear-HoLY _**FREAKING**_ HELL!!!

Inky let out a frightened shriek as soon as he turned around and saw the horrific vistage of the bitty that was sleeping. Directly. _Behind him._

The colorful bitty floundered backwards, pushing himself away until his back hit a shiny gold ashtray full of soft and colorful pom poms and he saw… more snoozing. 

Axe didn’t wake up.

Axe was sleeping in a little cubby underneath where Inky’s own bed bundle was located. It looked a bit cramped, but he supposes being so enclosed must also feel cozy and safe. It is stuffed with a soft looking scarf for the little Horror to burrow into, and only one side is open to the world. A good position to sleep if you’re worried about possible predator attacks, Inky supposes. Smart for a bitty living on the streets.

But that does not explain why the guy is still _ASLEEP_. Inky was sure he made enough noise to wake the dead with all his tumbling and screeching, but he guesses Axe is just a deep sleeper?

“Axe? ……..Aaaaaaaaxe?” he tests out quietly before upping the volume.

“Axe!” Inky yelled, then he clapped his hands loudly. Still nothing but peaceful snores. The only reaction he got was Axe nuzzling his scarf bedding, burying his face just a little more than before as he let out a soft sigh.

Wow okay, that’s cute. 

Why is this guy so cute?

Someone that looks so terrifying has no right to be so cute. I mean, just look at his scarf! Now that he’s really looking at him, Inky notices that Mr. Big-n’-scary’s preferred bedding of choice is pastel pink with fluffy sheep printed on it. The guy looks like an adorable burrito all nuzzled in like that. A big burrito. What the fuck. Why was he scared of this guy again?

……….Huge, intimidating, strong, gastly head injury, wields giant knives he uses to stab small creatures to death, and he has a bunch of severed animal heads out front for security.

...Yeah okay he remembers now. Good talk. Although last night Axe seemed… really nice? He saved him, treated him, fed him, and tucked him into a bed made out of softness. Those are all equally good reasons to NOT be scared of the Horrortale bitty. Perhaps he’s misjudged him? Inky would like to say yes, but there’s one thing bugging him… Namely what Axe said when they first met.

_“Mine.”_

Mine…

What did Axe mean by that exactly? From the little time they’ve spent together, Inky has gathered that Axe is a bitty of few words. He only seems to speak when he needs to. Otherwise he prefers to communicate through grunts and gestures. Which implies that whenever Axe DOES speak the words he uses _mean_ something. That there’s purpose to them. Needlessly speaking does not seem to suit him.

So while a part of Inky wants to brush off what Axe said as something silly or unimportant… a bigger part feels uneasy. Uncertain? As nice as this guy may be, it still doesn’t erase all the red flags that make the artist fear that Axe is _dangerous._

Dangerous and possibly possessive.

Inky is going to need some clarification before he thinks he can fully relax around the big guy. He’ll ask him when he wakes up. Maybe over breakfast.

His thoughts decided, Inky nods to himself before looking back out over the cluttered mess of pretties. The sight reignites the itch to explore and discover just what lovely gems are hidden away in this treasure trove.

Retrieving the happy smile he had before falling on his face, the little artist stood and… realizes his shoes are missing.

Inky pulled up the hem of his dress slightly and looked down at his bare feet. Did he take them off? When? He was starting to worry he’d lost them when it occurred to the little artisan that these quilt pathways were surprisingly clean and vibrant for being walked on by a giant bitty that must regularly walk through dirt and street grime. Did Axe take his shoes off to keep his pretty quilts from getting stained?

Wiggling his toes in the soft fabric, Inky smiled at how nice it felt on his bare bones. He bounced a little too and found that there was a bit of cushion underneath. How comfy! Well… if walking around is going to be so pleasant, then he doesn’t mind going without shoes for now.

Anyway, eager to get his treasure hunt going, the little bitty summoned himself a bone construct to act as a cane and began tearing through all the treasures at a slow, limping pace, making as much noise as he damn well pleased since it seems Axe won’t be bothered by the ruckus.

A few of the things Inky found were a glass bottle full of sand and sea shells, an extensive collection of glitter, and a simple stone that looked as though it had been painted by a child with bright colors. Much of what is here was damaged in some way. Water damage, chipping, broken or missing pieces. Axe must have found most of this stuff in the trash or on the ground, though there were plenty things that could have passed as new.

Out of everything though, Inky’s favorite piece would have to be the sake serving bottle being used as a flower vase. The ceramic bottle is black with pink sakura flowers accenting it with only a few scratches marring its otherwise pristine surface. The flowers it held were many, and they all were of different types, colors, and at various stages of life and decay. Much of the area surrounding the makeshift vase was covered with dried petals and dead bulbs… The flower arrangement must be Axe’s favorite thing out of his hoard, too, for it to be so prominently displayed in his cluttered home.

Oh, and this guy must have a thing for sweets because there are stashes of candy hidden EVERYWHERE. The pantry full of rations and freshly salted meat was obviously in a jewelry box next to several cans of food out where it was easy to get to, but for the candy, for whatever reason, you had to go digging for them in secret nooks. Chocolates and gummies and hard crunchies (oh my) were in all manner of containers ranging from the traditional box to places unexpected. It seems that anything with a cover was fair game. Inky even opened up a book shaped locket to see if there was a picture inside and only found a skittle. A single skittle. A yummy looking green one. 

Inky would have loved to eat some of these treats, but aside from it being very rude, the little artist knows the sugar would absolutely ruin him if he had any before a proper meal. So instead the bitty did all he could to ignore the call of the sweet treats and focus on something more whimsical instead: fashion.

While he explored, Inky found many small items that could be used for dressing up and he took great delight decorating his tiny body. He wrapped some fabric around his torso and shoulder to act as a fashionable sash, placed a ring on his head as if it were a crown, and secured a wrist watch around his waist to be a belt. Inky accessorized with many other little trinkets, having decided that he shall become a devilishly handsome pirate captain after finding some colorful pipe cleaners, a thimble, a washer, and a bird’s feather he could cobble together to make some sort of weird but acceptable hat.

Thinking that every captain needs a coat, Inky’s gaze scanned the room as he carefully adjusted his makeshift creation on his head. He thought at first that perhaps he could use his cloak. He found it earlier hanging on the hook of what looked like an earring stand -alongside a variety of mismatched earrings- with his shoes and Axe’s fluffy slippers sitting neatly underneath. With the cloak’s little arm holes, it would have been perfect, but it also felt like cheating. Using his stuff would have been no fun, and so Inky continued to brainstorm until his eyelights landed on Axe’s still sleeping form. Sleeping with his jacket. The smaller bitty squinted at him in annoyed suspicion as he remembered dinner last night.

.:~*~:.

_“Whoa wait, where’d THAT come from?!”_

_Inky was in the middle of enjoying his vengeance upon the rodent that almost killed him. Nibbling on the cooked leg filled him with a small sense of triumph that helped soothe his soul. Bringing with it some much needed closure in the aftermath of such a traumatic event. However, all of that had been forgotten in the wake of seeing a GIANT ASS KITCHEN KNIFE COME FROM FREAKING NOWHERE._

_And Axe had the audacity to stand there over the bird, primed and ready to slice off a wing with the giant blade, looking as though he didn’t know what the hell he was talking about._

_“uh… wha’?” the little Horror asked intelligently as he stalled his cutting motion to stare at the smaller bitty._

_“That! That knife!” Inky exclaimed as he frantically pointed at the sharp kitchen utensil. “Where’d it come from? You didn’t have it a second ago!”_

_Inky knows for a fact that there was no knife. He would have seen something that big out here before now, and he saw Axe well enough in his peripheral vision the whole time to know he didn’t go into the house or anywhere else for that matter. So where did that knife come from?_

_The little Horror’s eye sockets slowly began to crinkle as a grin grew on his face. Big enough for Inky to see a hint of teeth peek out from beneath his oversized turtleneck. His red eyelight sparkling with mischief, Axe maintained eye contact with the little artist as he pulled open the front of his light blue parka, made a show of twirling the giant instrument of death with a single hand, and then sunk it blade first into the interior of his coat… where it just completely vanished._

_“wha’ knife?” Axe asked with amusement in his quiet, raspy voice as he casually stuffed his hands into his jacket pockets. Inky’s jaw dropped._

_“What… but…where...?” the thoroughly dumbfounded artist asked lamely as his mind tried to make sense of what he just saw. Desiring answers, Inky rushed out of his seat and nearly fell onto the bloody bird body as he stumbled with his injured leg, ignoring the stabs of pain._

_Inky went straight up to the Horror and began frantically searching for the missing knife. He opened the jacket up, lifted the bottom to peer under it, and then in desperation finally just dove right into the interior, wiggling in between the parka’s fluffy fur lining and Axe’s torso. Axe meanwhile was thoroughly amused, chuckling happily at the smaller’s antics._

_“where’s wha’, inky?” the larger bitty asked feigning innocence, completely uncaring that there’s someone wiggling around under his clothing._

_“The knife!” Inky yelled in dismay as his words were muffled by fur and fabric. “It’s gone! How?!”_

_The colorful bitty felt around inside the jacket for clues to no avail. Eventually Inky reemerged from the soft interior and looked into Axe’s one working eye with an intense expression._

_“Where’d it go?” he demanded, hands on his hips._

_“secrets,” the asshole answered with that smug as fuck grin of his, obviously enjoying the smaller’s distress._

_“What?! Nooooo! You can’t just dangle something like this in front of me and say nothing! Tell me pleeeeeeeeeeeease…!” Inky whined as he stepped up close and began lightly flailing his tiny fists into the broad chest of the larger bitty. Axe only continued to laugh. “It hurts. The curiosity hurts. Please tell me.”_

_“hurts huh...?” Axe asked. “ya want a kiss ta make it feel better?”_

_Snapping out of his playful tantrum, Inky suddenly realized just how up close and personal with the Horror bitty he’d been for the past few minutes and took a big step back._

_“Wh-What?!” he stuttered as a rainbow heated up his cheeks brightly, hands waving frantically in front of him. “N-No, no! I’m good! I’M GOOD! I don’t need-”_

_Axe then proceeds to reach back into the interior of his jacket and pulls out a Hershey's Kiss candy larger than his entire hand and presents it to Inky._

_“.................THAT WAS **NOT** UNDER THERE BEFORE!”_

.:~*~:.

And then Axe laughed even more. And then as if to mock him further, the guy pulled the GIANT ASS KNIFE back out from wherever the fuck it went and returned to clipping the dead bird’s wings. Right in front of him! 

Further inquiries only resulted in Axe telling him to Google it. 

_Like as if he has access to the internet behind a dumpster!_

At least desert was delicious…

Inky wants that jacket. He really wants that jacket. It contains secrets, and even though it was wet last night it felt incredibly soft and cozy inside. It would be amazingly oversized on him, but Inky could see it being the perfect pirate’s coat to run around in. Axe won’t mind, would he? If he just… takes it? Would he even wake up if he tries? Maybe? Would he get angry if he did?

Questions abound flitted through his head. The most prominent being if it was a good idea to mess with a sleeping bitty that has secret knives stashed on him somewhere. Probably not, but...

...But he really wants that jacket.

………………Oh fuck it. If Axe wakes up Inky will just say he’s hungry and wants breakfast.

Feeling determined to become the pirate captain he knows he’s meant to be, the colorful bitty gives in to his compulsion to take that fluffy parka all for himself.

Inky took one step towards Axe. Just one. He didn’t know how he was going to slip that jacket off but he was intent on doing it… and suddenly Axe’s boney eyelids snapped open, swollen eyelight focused intensely upon him. 

Inky froze at the unsettling sight. That sudden, piercing gaze has him locked in place, looking very much like a deer caught in headlights. Unable to breathe, unable to think, it felt as though the two of them were staring at each other for hours instead of a few short seconds… then within the span of a blink, Inky heard the distinctive soft pop of a shortcut and opened his eyes to see Axe standing there right in front of him.

Inky let out a screech and jumped back, falling backwards right into that ashtray full of colorful puff balls.

Alright, yeah, this guy is still a little scary… At least he can ask for breakfast now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun Fact: being the empathetic writer that I am, I had trouble breathing when I was writing the part with the nightmare.


	5. Rated “M” for Inky’s Mouth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where some important revelations are made and Axe's magpie mode activates.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warnings listed in the end notes.

Axe watched Inky flounder around in the puffy ball pit for a few long moments before taking pity on the guy and pulled him out before he could drown in all the fluff.

“Why in the world did you wake up so suddenly???” asked the thoroughly bewildered bitty as he was held up from under his armpits.

“m’ a light sleeper.”

“You most certainly are not! I was making tons of noise before now!”

“wasn’t payin’ attention fer noise…” Axe said as he set Inky down on his feet, careful so as to not agitate the cracked leg. “wha’ did ya want?”

Inky rose a brow ridge as he gave the towering Horror before him a careful look. That… was not a question of “if” he wanted something. Just one that was assured that something was indeed wanted. A strange thing for a bitty who just woke up to be so sure of. Especially when Inky was nowhere near him at the time. Seeing little point in arguing against what’s, in reality, a true assumption, Inky shrugged.

“Honestly? I wanted your coat.”

Axe’s gaze then drifted over Inky’s costumed body, giving it a once over. “fer... dress up?” he asked, looking just as uncertain as he sounded. “Yep!” Inky replied just before striking a pose, showing off the mismash of accessories he decorated his body with. “I’m on a quest to become a devilishly handsome pirate captain! Sailing the seas and striking fear in the hearts of men everywhere~!”

Axe then… gives him an odd look. Head tilted to the side, a tad confused, the red eyelight boring into him was intense as he seemed to try to puzzle something out.

“...........................’kay, i give up. boy or girl?”

“W-What?” Inky sputtered out, caught completely off guard by a question that came out of left field.

“boy or girl?” he asks again. “was bettin’ girl ‘cause the dress, but ‘handsome pirate’ threw me.”

In truth, Axe doesn’t really care which Inky is, but he is curious to know if the smaller really is that mythical “girl bitty” he’s heard about. The problem is that, besides the pretty outfit, there hasn’t been much of anything pointing to Inky’s preferred gender. Not even the little bitty’s behavior gives much insight. As far as the Horror knew, freaking out and getting excited is acceptable for both ends of the spectrum. Axe prefers learning through observation, so it’s been bugging him that he hasn’t been able to make heads or tails of this matter. 

Inky looked down at his dress. His torn, dirtied, stained, ruined dress and the sight suddenly filled the little artist with a bitter anger. The tiny bitty looked absolutely ready to rip the damn thing off and BURN it as he glared at the gown with seething eyelights of a red skull and purple crosshair.

He is just so… frustrated! Miles from home and out from under that _despicable_ man’s thumb and yet this shit STILL followed him out! He’s supposed to be free! Done with all that crap that was forced upon him for all those years but even now it’s--!

“I’m not a girl,” Inky snaps out spitefully, forcefully, _angrily_. “I’m a _**boy**_!” 

That anger wasn’t aimed at Axe -wasn’t even looking at him- but the venom that was dripping off those words was astonishly potent. Body tense, hands shaking from how tight they were fisted, Inky looks like he’s on the verge of punching somebody.

But then it sunk in what he just said and all that anger drained from him, leaving Inky with a blank face and green, circle eyelights. “I’m a boy…” he repeated quietly, softly, a whisper of disbelief that was barely heard even in the quiet of the morning.

With one eyelight turning white, Inky began to carefully look about himself seemingly nervous. It was as though he were expecting someone to be there listening in. Someone he feared.

“I’m a boy,” he tested more loudly. When the cluttered house offered him no reply, a giddiness slowly began to wash over the tiny skeleton, replacing his simple eyelights with an orange triangle and yellow sun.

“I’m a boy… I’m a boy, I’m a BOY!” Inky chanted in an increasingly excited tone. He then spun on his heel to face the rest of the makeshift home and shouted as loud as he could with his little arms stretching up to the sky in victory. “I’M A BOOOOOOY~! HAHAHAHAHA _FUCK YOU, RICHARD!!”_

Axe stood there the whole time watching the increasingly manic display. Eye sockets wide, the bigger bitty was… surprised. A bit unsettled, really. He was taken aback by the suddenness of… of… Just what the _heck_ was all **that** about? And who is Richard? This raises more questions than answers.

Not quite knowing what to think of the outburst, Axe tentatively reached out and tapped Inky on the shoulder, raising a bone brow as he looked at him utterly perplexed. The smaller flinched at the contact, breaking him from his excited trance as he glances behind and sees the looming giant. 

Oops… He forgot he was still there.

...Inky suddenly feels very awkward and embarrassed and _silly_ for his behavior. He slowly turned back around to face Axe, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck as he gave the Horror Sans an apologetic smile. Eyelights switching to a magenta circle and an inverted orange triangle.

“Sorry about that. My… my owner, umm…”

“richard?”

“Yeah, Richard. He, uhh…” Inky’s face scrunched up a bit, looking as though he bit into something sour. “He _really_ liked the idea of having a little lady bitty. Insisted on it, actually… Umm… I didn’t… really have any say in the matter.”

Axe felt himself frown. That… didn’t sound good… Didn’t people kill themselves over that kind of stuff? Not being allowed to be the gender they want? He’s pretty sure he’s heard that from somewhere… He doesn’t quite understand why himself. Doesn’t understand a lot about how and why normal people feel the way they do, but he can at least gather from Inky’s reaction alone that it _is_ important.

“...tha’ why ya ran?”

Inky’s grimace only became more pronounced, his frown deepening as his eyelights shifted to a blue teardrop and purple spade. He looks away. “It was…” he started, seemingly having trouble saying the words, “one of the reasons…”

“...but not the main one,” Axe observed quietly. His words cut Inky like a knife, making him look as though he were in pain. The smaller did not confirm nor deny the proclamation, only remained silent, but the little artist didn’t need to say anything. The fact he looks as if he might start crying any moment now says enough.

Axe stares down at Inky for a long moment.

More and more questions keep popping up, but it’s obvious that he’s not going to be getting any answers for now. Looking down at the distressed bitty, nearly in tears, Axe still doesn’t feel much of anything… but he doesn’t think he likes Inky like this. He prefers him being that excitable ball of energy that made him laugh so much yesterday with his antics.

Axe has never laughed so much before… talked so much before… In all his life, the Horror has never had much in the way of company. Axes don’t really like being around each other, and other bitty-types tend to give them a wide berth as well. Not even his own owner spoke with him much. Not in any meaningful way.

It’s not like he got Axe for _talking_ , after all… 

After being alone for so long, the larger would have thought he’d be annoyed with such an energetic presence. It’s such a stark difference to his usual calm and patient demeanor, but he strangely found himself enjoying it.

Good thing. He plans on keeping this little china doll around for a long time.

Anyway, that sad face needs to be fixed. 

Shrugging off his grey-blue parka, Axe then dumps the coat onto Inky. The little bitty let out a surprised squeak and peeked out from underneath the fabric with wide, surprised eyes. A green question mark and a blue circle. Axe waves an arm towards the smaller and the jacket before slipping his hands into his pants’ pockets. A simple gesture for Inky to go ahead and put it on.

Realizing what the Horror Sans meant, Inky’s mood did a complete 180. His expression brightened considerably, eyelights turning into double stars of orange and yellow, as an excited gasp slipped past his teeth. Eagerly the little artist righted the waaaaaaaay oversized coat onto himself, slipping his arms into sleeves that were twice too long for him. He had to scrunch the sleeves up a bunch to even get his hands to the cuff, but even then only the fingertips of his tiny digits were able to peek past the ends. Nothing could be done to fix how the fluffy bottom hem gathered upon the floor, though.

Inky took a moment to snuggle into all the soft fluff the parka’s lining had to offer, letting out soft, happy sounds, before a sudden thought seemed to occur to him and he just… disappeared into the jacket.

The parka stood somewhat on its own, slumping only a little bit as Inky wiggled around inside for… some reason.

Axe leaned down to peek through the collar opening to see what the smaller was doing. After a few seconds Inky’s face peeked out among the fluff, glaring at the behemoth with a slight pout.

“There’s no chocolate in here,” he stated suspiciously. Axe grinned a smile full of mischief.

“nope,” he answered simply. Glare intensifying, Inky rose back to his feet and threaded his arms back through the giant sleeves. He maintained eye contact the whole time, and once the coat was back in place the tiny thing pointed two of his fingers at his own eye sockets before pointing at Axe in the classic “I’m watching you” manner. Axe snorted at the adorable threat.

“Well anyway,” Inky said as his annoyed facade was discarded and he struck another pose, awkwardly trying to keep the much too large parka from slipping off, “what do you think? Do I look like a fearsome pirate captain?”

Axe gives the smaller bitty an appraising look, humming in thought. The coat practically swallowed the whole of Inky up. The hand on his hip had his bent arm bunching the sleeve up like an accordion. The other arm stretched out high however could not keep the sleeve from un-scrunching to its full length, causing the later half of it to flop around freely. The only part of the little bitty that could be seen was Inky’s head, but even that was nearly devoured by the fluff of Axe’s hood. It did not take him long to give his answer. 

“nah, too cute… can’ take ya seriously.”

Inky’s cheeks burst into a rainbow bloom as his posing falters. Flustered by Axe’s bluntness, Inky sputters and stumbles in his response. To regain his footing, the smaller bitty attempts to cross his arms with the large sleeves getting in the way, glaring up at the other with an angry pout. Eyes pink and magenta, inverted heart and diamond

“W-Well! Maybe that’s the point!” he answers indignantly, fur getting pushed up into his blushing face by rising shoulders. “I only WANT you to think I’m cute.” His face burns brighter. “That way I can stab you in the back when you let your guard down!” Axe lets out a low chuckle.

“don’ sound like a pirate… more like an assassin.”

………………….Inky’s eyes turn wide at the thought, eyelights expanding as an orange triangle and yellow star until they nearly fill their sockets. “Ninja…” he whispers softly to himself before bolting off into the cluttered treasure trove.

“I NEED TO FIND A FACE WRAP!”

Axe watches on, laughing quietly to himself as the excitable ball of energy trips over his dress, his coat, and his injured leg as he awkwardly yet enthusiastically climbs and limps around the items of his collection. The amused bitty follows behind the artist at a slow, leisurely pace, making sure the other’s antics don't cause him to hurt his fractured leg even more.

Yep, this is much better. An energetic Inky is best Inky. 

……Hmmm… It’s going to be a bit hard trapping Inky here with him being so rambunctious. He’s having fun now, but Axe doubts he’ll want to stick around when his leg is fully healed. The little guy will want to get as far away from this Richard person as possible, he’s sure. Soul Fathers know Axe had done the same for his own owner. He hitchhiked on the back of interstate traveling trucks and in the beds of passing train cars as he ran and ran, and he didn’t stop running until he went from one coast to the other. An entire country transversed by the time he finally felt as though he was able to slow and settle down.

With all the energy and life Inky has, Axe is willing to bet he’d be able to go farther. _**Want**_ to go farther. Just to escape the man that makes him want to cry just by thinking about why he ran in the first place. 

So what can he do to make sure Inky stays put? What does Axe have on hand to make that happen? The little bitty doesn’t seem like the type to be chained down easily.

…………….Oooo, chains. Chains could work. At least until Axe is able to cobble something more permanent together. Some sort of cage… A glass case would be ideal if he can find one. Something that would be able to display the china doll prominently. 

Meanwhile, as Axe is trying to remember where he has stashed his collection of metal chain necklaces, Inky flips open the lid of a jewelry box full of various fabrics of different colors. Score! Just what he was looking for!

Pulling the assortment out one by one, Inky had a grand ol’ time quickly evaluating each cloth for ninjaness and then tossing it into the air behind him. It sure created a mess, but he can’t help it! It’s so fun to watch the fabrics flutter down gently. It causes a bubbly, childlike kind of joy to bloom in the artist’s chest that makes him giggle and smile brightly. It’s been so long since he’s felt like this… he doesn’t want the feeling to stop!

Eventually, Inky halts dead in his tracks when he finds it. THE cloth for his face wrap, but it’s not the classic black like he expected. No, it is a soft, creamy brown that resembles the color of the classic, long scarf that is associated with his bitty-type.

Carefully, gently, Inky pulls the fabric out of the box and examines it. His phalanges brush against the surface and he marvels at just how soft it is. He… he always wanted his own Inky scarf, but Richard never much liked the look. The color and style disagreed with him. His owner always preferred dressing him up in distinctly feminine colors and clothing and none of the official Inky clothingline matched that. 

Feelings of excitement, longing, and attachment rose and mixed inside the little artist's chest, compelling him to rip off his makeshift pirate hat with a big smile just before he started hopping backwards to pull the cotton fabric out completely.

It’s… whoa, that’s a lot. Long? It is indeed. However it is also _**wide**_. Umm… perhaps he can try folding it up lengthwise or something? It’s going to be difficult fitting all of this around his neck and face with how big the cloth is. Holding the large piece of fabric up best he could, Inky tried to puzzle out a solution to his predicament when he heard it.

A soft pop.

Then he felt it.

A tingly feeling running up and down his back at the presence of something appearing behind him much too close.

Inky quickly turned around and found his vision filled with the crimson glow of an engorged eyelight. The little artist jumped in surprise, letting out a startled noise. 

It’s Axe. It’s just Axe. But the way he is looking at him, with a dilated eyelight that nearly fills his eye socket, it left Inky... unsettled. It’s like the guy is looking at him, but not at HIM, if that made any sense. The Horror was seeing… something else… Something he wanted to grasp.

Something he wanted to possess.

_“mine.”_

Inky shivered upon suddenly remembering that one-worded declaration the other made last night, and with how Axe is looming over him so close… Abruptly he once again realizes just how small he is compared to this behemoth of a bitty.

Inky takes a step back, desiring distance, desiring space to breathe. He is getting a bad feeling about that covetous look, but Axe merely leans in closer to close the gap between them. “Ahh… haha,” laughs the artist nervously with a crooked smile. “W-What’s… What are you doing, Axe? You’re… You’re kinda creeping me out.”

“rainbow…” the giant rasps out, voice filled with awe. “yer bones shine a rainbow…”

The Horror saw it as soon as Inky chucked off that odd cobbling of a pirate hat. That same rainbow glow the other’s bone attacks give off in strong light. It’s subtler, less intense, less noticeable, but in the sunlight of early morning it is as clear as day. A beautiful collection of pastel hues reflecting off pure white bone like a halo…

Axe reaches out slowly to touch the reflected luminescence.

Inky takes another step back from the approaching hand but fails to get away when his back hits a clear vase full of pipe cleaners. Axe does not notice the white and magenta eyelights darting in wide sockets between his face and hand. Nor how the smaller presses himself flush against the glass in a reflexive attempt to get away from an approaching appendage so large he fears it could easily grasp his skull in its entirety.

The large hand reaches Inky’s head… but it doesn’t connect. The fingers very nearly brush against bone, but not quite as they enact a caressing motion close to his face. It's as if Axe is trying to touch and stroke something ethereal and light. The almost touching traces a kind of phantom sensation along his skull, causing a shiver to crawl up his back. A quiet gasp leaving him.

Perhaps if this were any other situation the sensation would have been enjoyable, but instead it just enhances that foreboding feeling.

Quickly Inky shoves the offending limb up and away before ducking under and stumbling to a safer distance. When he turns around his expression is tense. Guarded. Eyelights a green four-pointed star and a white spade.

“Axe… I have a question for you,” Inky says with wariness evident in his voice. “It’s something I’ve been meaning to ask for a while now.”

Axe, who seems to have been broken from his trance, surprised by the smaller’s escape, stared at him for a moment before nodding his head with a grunt to show he was listening.

“Last night, when you found me… you said ‘mine’.” Saying it out loud, Inky feels a little silly. Like he shouldn’t be getting so worked up over a single word, but he presses on determined. 

“You… don’t seem like a bitty that says things for no reason,” he reasoned, more to reassure himself that his concern is valid, “so why did you say that? What did you mean?”

Axe regarded Inky for a long moment, staring at him intently in thought. Eventually the larger bitty adjusted his posture, standing his full height again in that typical, relaxed manner many Sans bitties are known for. One hand slipping casually into a pocket, the other pointed up towards the ceiling. Axe’s gaze soon followed the path of the finger’s trajectory, causing Inky’s own head to tilt back as well. It took him a moment to spot it, but the artist was able to pick out several iridescent bones reflecting rainbows in the daylight. They hang close to the tail feathers of a Blue Jay.

“..................Are those my magic attacks?” Inky asks, mystified. Axe once again nods and grunts as he stuffs the pointing hand into his other pocket.

“they’re very pretty… gots this rainbow glow about ‘em when light hits ‘em right… yer bones too, looks like, but yer attacks are much brighter… n’ yer eyes are really colorful…”

With each passing comment Inky could feel his face get hotter and hotter. His magical insides squirming, fluttering, like as though someone released a swarm of butterflies. 

This… wasn’t what he was expecting when he demanded answers. Sure, he knew his attacks and body had such colorful reflections -his magic IS literally rainbow hued, after all- but he’s never been so… unabashedly, _bluntly_ complimented on it!

“so’s yer face when ya get all flushed... like right now. ‘s very bright n’ vibrant.”

Magenta and pink exclamation marks exploded in Inky’s sockets as the burning on his cheeks grew so luminous that he had no trouble seeing the glow himself. Fucking hell, Axe! Don’t call him out on it!

Pushing the oversized parka up to cover his cheeks, Inky glared with eyes of a red target and magenta skull at the Horror Sans. “Get to the point, Axe!” he demands loudly in a higher pitch that betrays just how flustered the smaller bitty is right now.

“‘kay. i called dibs,” Axe says easily. “sayin’ ‘mine’ was me callin’ dibs…”

“...Dibs,” Inky repeated a touch bewildered. Axe nodded. Such a simple, silly word, and yet it felt as though someone was dribbling ice water over his soul as the implications of what it meant slowly sunk in.

“...Axe, you can’t… haha… you can’t just… call dibs on another bitty,” Inky said as more nervous laughter escaped him. His eyelights switching to a disbelieving green and anxiety ridden white.

“sure i can. jus’ did… wantcha ta stay wit’ me.”

“W-Well sure! At least until my leg heals, b-but I really can’t--”

“i mean forever. wantcha fer my collection...”

“C...Collection?”

Axe gestures to everything around them. To every pretty sparkle, to every lovely trinket and stunning treasure. His collection of beautiful things… and he wants Inky to be a part of that.

The artist would be flattered for qualifying if it probably didn’t mean he’d be treated like a decoration. It’s a revelation that causes that slow dribble to finally freeze his insides. Both eyelights are now white. An ellipses and swirl. Inky doesn’t know what else to do but frantically scan this cluttered labyrinth for the way out. 

He needs to get out. He needs to _leave_.

“But what if I don’t want to be here forever?” Inky said as he tried to keep his voice steady, feet already subtly sliding in the direction he thinks the exit may be. “What if I don’t _want_ to be a part of your collection?” Axe shrugged.

“don’ always get wha’ we want.”

Eyelights suddenly snapped over to Axe, halting their panicked search. An intense double red of twin skulls overtaking their appearance. 

Memories of a night long ago filled Inky’s mind, clouding his vision.

_He was running down a long, opulent hallway with hanging paintings and rich red rugs laid out along mahogany flooring. He was sobbing, unable to feel anything but pain and betrayal fill his entire being. He was so upset that his telekinetic magic could barely catch the handle and push the door open when he approached his owner’s office. He calls out the man’s name as he enters completely distraught and finds his way up to the desk to confront the one he had trusted._

_He yells, he screams. So much frustration that had accumulated over the months boiled over in this moment of his breaking. Why did he do this? He thought he loved him! He doesn’t want this!_ He doesn’t want ANY of this!

_That’s when Richard leans in, smiling ever so pleasantly in a way that seems so much darker than it should be, and says…_

**“Well, we don’t always get what we want, now do we?”**

_And then he tells him to go back. Go back and give him what_ **HE** _wants or else he’ll--_

“I’m leaving,” Inky says in a voice that’s way too calm for how he actually feels before limping off towards the exit. Fully determined to leave Axe and the haze of unwanted memories behind.

Axe, taken aback by the sudden change in Inky, could only get out a singular “but--” before the smaller cut him off with anger radiating off his soul.

“NO!” Inky yelled as loudly as his voice could as he yanked the Horror’s jacket off himself and threw it to the ground. “I’m **NOT** trading one possessive, A-grade, controlling BASTARD of a man for another! Fuck you! Fuck your coat! And FUCK your stupid collection! I’M LEAVING!!”

Wobbling away best he could with a bum leg, Inky tore off every accessory he decorated himself with until he felt a large hand grab his arm.

“AAGH! DON’T TOUCH ME!!!” Inky screamed in terror as he grabbed the heaviest thing within his reach. His fingers latched onto the notched end of a big, hefty key with a handle that looked more than capable of caving in a bitty’s skull. Intent on doing just that, the smaller put all his strength into the swing.

It was just a hair’s width away before Axe caught it. Easily. Without flinching even a little at how Inky almost added another hole to his head. The behemoth only stared down at him completely impassive with that unblinking red eyelight.

“somethin’ tells me yer mad…”

“YEAH! NO SHIT, SHERLOCK!!”

Inky tried to wiggle his weapon free but it didn’t budge an inch. He tried to yank his arm out of Axe’s grasp but it did not yield even a little. The grip is not painful, but it was firm and communicated clearly that Inky had no hope of besting the Horror’s overwhelming strength.

His hold slipped on the key.

Axe tossed the weapon behind him, his gaze not leaving Inky for a single moment as the key arced in the air over boxes and curiosities aplenty before landing with a crash far away and out of sight.

“Let go of me,” Inky demanded, struggling out of principle and spite regardless of how effective it was. _“Let go!!”_

The artist let out a scream as he was suddenly lifted into Axe’s arms, held close with that same uncompromising strength that promised greater power, yet was restrained just enough to not hurt the smaller as he frantically flails for freedom. The giant lets out a huff.

“yer gonna hurt ya self at this rate…” As if to prove his point, Inky let out a yelp followed by a whimper as his struggling stopped. He had agitated his cracked femur too much with his antics and is overcome with the pain that came with it. Axe shakes his head disapprovingly.

“if i let ya go now you’ll jus’ try ta run off… you’ll ‘ave ta stay in ‘ere while i go find those chains fer ya.”

What.

“Chains? CHAINS?!” Inky cries out completely outraged by the mere suggestion of LITERALLY chaining him up. He then sees that Axe is heading for the open jewelry box that’s been nearly emptied of all it’s colorful linen, prompting the smaller’s struggles anew.

“Oh _NO_! Don’t you dare, Axe! DON’T YOU DA--!”

He’s dropped carefully onto a pile of fabric within the box. Inky looks up in time to see Axe’s face disappear as he closes the lid, casting the little bitty into darkness. Inky almost immediately lunges to push the lid open but he’s stopped by what feels like a heavy weight that has been placed on top.

“AXE YOU ABSOLUTE SON OF A BITCH OF A MOTHERFUCKER YOU OPEN THIS BOX RIGHT NOW OR I’LL RIP OFF THAT STUPID TURTLENECK OF YOURS AND STUFF IT UP YOUR--!”

Holy crap, what a mouth. Even with the wood of the jewelry box muffling Inky’s shouting, Axe could clearly hear the smaller’s enraged expletives. A string of cursing that doesn’t seem to have an end in sight. Is he even breathing right now? Damn, Inky is such a fierce little china doll... Although Axe shouldn’t be so surprised. Of course an energetic bitty like him would have just as much spirit put into his anger as he does with everything else.

Axe watched as the lid jostled and jumped with intense shaking, held back only by the jar of marbles he quickly stacked on top of it. After a few seconds, he forced himself to look away and search for that red and gold tin container he KNOWS his chain necklaces are stored in. It should be around here somewhere… but he better find it quickly.

Don’t want his newest pretty passing out because he used up all the air screaming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Trigger Warning:** for Inky's profanity, Axe being a creep, misgendering, and mentions of a cute bitty boop being forced to be a certain gender identity.  
> ((Is there a proper term for that practice? Enforced gender assignment maybe? Idk. If anyone knows, tell me please.))
> 
> =====================
> 
> Welp. This was going to happen sooner or later. Don’t worry, it’ll all work out. There’s still going to be plenty of cute silliness in the coming chapters to look forward to, but like it says in the tags, issues need to be sorted out first. 
> 
> But aside from that, have some world building! :D
> 
> ==============
> 
> **  
> .:Thing about bitty genders:.  
> **
> 
> Monsters and Bitties both lack a true biological sex. Monsters reproduce with their souls (making it more accurate to say they are neither male nor female) and Bitties -whose reproduction has been engineered to resemble human reproduction- reproduce by summoning the parts they need (making them both. A more technically appropriate term would be “simultaneous hermaphrodites”.) As such, the perceived _**gender**_ is what determines whether someone is a boy, girl, etc.
> 
> Technically, bitties by large are considered gender fluid, but because the fathers of their soul shards typically identify as male, the vast majority of bitties are going to prefer male pronouns and lean on that side of the spectrum. When Axe talks about the “rare girl bitty” he’s talking about a bitty that prefers female pronouns. For every 1,000 that are produced, about 6 of them are going to be “girls”. The same rate for transgender people. In fact, since it’s generalized that all bitties are “supposed to be boys”, some people say they could be considered transgendered bitties. Especially since they can sometimes face the same sort of social problems transgendered humans do.


	6. Sass and Spite

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's been a few days since Axe took Inky prisoner... What has happened?

Inky took in shallow breaths as he peeked around the corner, body flush against the age worn brick. His gaze darts up and down the alleyway, taking care to linger on any possible hiding spots that could obscure the form of a giant bitty. Seeing nothing, the small artist closed his eyes and focused.

Blocking out the world, his physical senses, Inky reached out with his soul and felt for signs of life.

He could feel the life force of birds sitting upon the nearby roof tops above and the critters scuttling about in the sewers below.

He could “hear” the people passing nearby on the street with his inner core, their songs always carrying on unhindered.

But does he “see” a soul shard in the alleyway ahead?

...No, he doesn’t.

Readjusting the crutches he cobbled together with bone constructs and dental floss, Inky made his way to the underside of a dumpster, swinging his legs as fast as he could get away with. Once undercover, Inky removed the crutches and rubbed at his armpits, grimacing slightly.

Now Inky understood why he always saw these things with towels tapped to the top: they freaking hurt! Apparently his under arms just can’t take his body weight… If the little artist didn’t need these things to get around quickly he would chuck them for being such a pain in the ass.

But he needs to be as fast as possible with Axe on the prowl. Inky can’t put distance between them just by limping around. That possessive jerk already showed him that.

These past few days have been… difficult.

A constant fight, really.

That first day after Axe found his chains and opened the jewelry box back up, Inky made it a point to try and stab the fucker in his one good eye with a sharp bone attack. When that inevitably failed the smaller made it VERY difficult for the ass to tie him up. In the end Axe had to use blue magic to hold him down. Only when the telekinetic hold was keeping his arms in place was the guy able to thread a delicate rose gold necklace through his radius and ulna to bind his wrists. A heavier bronze chain was then used around his ribs and humeri and linked to the handle of a teapot full of a colorful assortment of fire glass beads. 

After that Axe sat nearby heaving air, looking exhausted. Which was good because the fucker deserved it! Although Inky could have done without him creepily staring at the rainbow glow radiating off his skull the whole time he was resting. Something of which Inky found over the days he spent here the Horror favored doing whenever he didn’t have anything in particular to do at the house.

The little artist bided his time though, waiting several hours upon the silk pillow he was placed upon until Axe finally left him alone. Once sweet solitude was obtained, Inky summoned a magic construct, jammed it into one of the links of the delicate chain, and willed the bone to turn until the torque broke metal.

Inky would have gotten away with it too if it weren’t for the tool box blocking the exit. Apparently Axe puts that there at night to help keep animals out. Just a little something extra in case the heads don’t work. Unfortunately it was too heavy for Inky’s magic to lift and the Horror caught him in the act.

Day two, Inky wakes up inside a glass case. Decorated inside with comfortable bedding, various gemstones, and plastic flowers surrounding the outside. He… has no idea how Axe snuck this thing in here without him noticing. Where did he get it? And how did he even get it through that tiny ass doorway??? Answers were never provided.

Axe was very happy with the display, and Inky had to begrudgingly admit that it was indeed aesthetically pleasing. However the smaller couldn’t say he was very _happy_ about being moved in his sleep by the creep. Still, he humored the guy and stayed there a while. It WAS surprisingly comfy after all. Or at least he did until...

_“Hey, Axe. It’s getting kinda hot in here,” Inky said as he lounged in the plush bedding waving a hand at his face. The jerk had put his gilded caged out in the sun. For maximum rainbows, if he had to guess. The Horror hummed in thought, but as he moved to do… something… Inky snapped his fingers as his face shone a eureka moment. Yellow lightbulb, red exclamation point._

_“Oh wait! I know!”_

_Inky then suddenly summoned several sharp bone bullets and violently fired them. They pierced the glass and shattered the pane easily, causing shards to scatter upon the ground._

_“There we go! Much better~”_

Axe was not happy with that stunt. Not happy at all. He was a grump for the rest of the day and Inky took a vindictive joy out of it.

Third day Axe had managed to find a small pet carrier that was handmade with chicken wire and a wooden frame. Probably stolen if Inky had to guess. Unable to put off scavenging and hunting any longer, the Horror risked leaving the little escape artist unattended. The lock on the door was too heavy-duty to break, but Inky did find that by slotting a femur bone into the gap with the chicken wire near a corner, he could lever enough force to cause the structure to break apart as wood and nail parted with each other.

Moving the exit-blocking tool box was an easier yet even more exhausting feat. Unaccustomed to lifting such weight, Inky’s blue magic was strained and pushed to its limit. He was barely able to hold it up long enough for him to make a dive through the clothed doorway just before the metal box fell and slammed into the ground with a heavy thud. 

Inky will admit he was remiss in believing he was free and clear at that point. Unfortunately Axe apparently kept close to home and nabbed him before he could limp past the first alleyway corner.

Today was much the same. Inky was trapped inside a birdcage decorated with ribbons while Axe was out. There was a familiar padlock trapping him inside, but the hinges had some rusting to them… which allowed Inky to break the things after brutally stabbing them with a sharpened bone.

Axe’s jail cells are getting more and more secure with each attempt. While Inky is proud of what he’s been able to do to free himself, he is not keen on figuring out how to lockpick when the Horror finally finds a cage sturdy enough to hold him.

Pulling the fur of his cloak over his nasal aperture, Inky tried not to gag at the smell as he creeped his way under the dumpster. Once at the end, his eyelights turned huge at the sight of a sidewalk and street.

Yes! Finally! He’s out of this winding maze of twisting alleyways! 

Feeling a thrill of excitement in his soul, Inky makes a break for it. He swings his legs and crutches as fast as he can, uncaring for the aching fatigue bordering on painful growing in his arms as he nears the sidewalk. He’s nearly there, feeling hope bloom in his chest, but just before he can reach the walkway, a veritable mountain of blue and white abruptly appears before him.

Inky gasps and tries to put on the brakes before he can collide with the obstacle, but it just makes him stumble, trip, and crash into a broad chest with an “oof” face first. The resulting collision had done nothing to move the mountain. Being a solid mass of bone and fabric, the artist’s tiny momentum had done little to affect it. 

Inky… wanted to scream.

Frustration welled up inside the smaller bitty as the hands that had reached out to catch his fall gripped Axe’s sweater so tightly they threatened to tear new holes in the worn fabric. Thoughts of summoning a hoard of bones to impale the Horror played in his mind, but before he could muster up the intent to do so, Inky took a deep breath in... exhaled the air slowly… and slumped into the giant bitty, pressing his face into Axe’s chest even more than before, obscuring all possible sight.

“I’m not moving,” Inky said with a muffled voice. He could feel Axe’s ribs suddenly rise and fall as the other let out a quick huff of air that almost sounded like a laugh.

“why?”

“Because seeing is believing. So if I don’t see you then I can continue to believe that you’re not here.”

A more energized chuckle shook in Axe’s chest at that comment. Not by much, but it was still enough to be noticeable. They stayed like that for maybe a minute or two longer. Perhaps more. Inky is not sure. All he knows is that he’s just so very tired...

They both are, honestly. 

Inky’s rebellious bids for freedom have exhausted Axe just as much as the little cloaked bitty burrowed into him. He’s not sure why Inky is putting up with being so close to him right now, as the smaller has made it abundantly clear what he thought of him these past few days, but Axe appreciates the moment of respite.

It’s felt like one nonstop battle trying to keep this little china doll caged up. So much magic and work put into it for nothing, and he already has so little magic to spare as is. 

Maybe he’s in over his head. Maybe he’s bit off more than he can chew. Maybe he should just give up and let the guy go. These thoughts have been floating around Axe’s mind these past few days, and getting more and more frequent as he got more and more worn down. Drained from all the effort spent keeping Inky under control and keeping up his daily grind of foraging and hunting. Much of which required him to put in overtime while the little troublemaker slept since his antics have kept him too close to home to get much work done.

It’s enough to make a bitty want to give up… but looking down now at the little guy cuddling into his chest, skull alight with the soft glow of a rainbow halo as the sun shines down upon him… makes Axe want to keep trying and figure out a solution that can work. Inky is too much of a beautiful pretty for him to want to let go so easily.

Still, he is tired… Closing his eyes, Axe tilts his head down a little and takes in this moment of peace. Listening to the lulling din of shuffling feet behind him… enjoying the comfortable feeling of warmth from the sun and this tiny body pressed up against him… the Horror feels like he can slip into sleep and finally rest…

“Awwww… look at those two,” coos a female voice as Axe hears heeled shoes walk on by behind him. “That’s so precious~”

“Yes, they make for a cute couple,” says a male voice in response just a little farther away. 

If anything else was said by the passing people, Axe didn’t hear it. Inky pushing himself away as though the Horror were made of fire took his attention, causing his eyelids to snap open and the spell of peace to break.

“Where the heck were you hiding anyway?” said a seemingly miffed Inky after taking a few steps back from the looming giant, adamantly ignoring the burning colors on his cheeks. “I didn’t sense you anywhere!”

It took Axe a few moments to clear the sleepy haze that had settled over his mind, but once he did he was able to comprehend what was just asked of him. Removing one of the hands that had been stuffed snugly into his parka pockets, Axe looked up and pointed. Inky inclined his head as well to see that the finger led his gaze to a fire escape.

Okay.

Inky will admit that he wasn’t looking up THAT high, so that solves one mystery.

“‘m a hunter… good at sensin’, good at hidin’... ya gotta suppress yer soul more than that to throw me,” Axe explained as he slid his hand back into the cozy pocket, turning his gaze back to the artist. Inky just glared at the fire escape as though it insulted his ancestors before letting out a huff.

“Wonderful. Great. That’s just great,” Inky grumbled as he bent down to pick up his fallen crutches. “You’re super strong AND got super soul sensing skills…. Seriously, am I going to have to knock you out by clonking a marble upside your head just to get a chance to run away? Because I’m seriously considering it.”

“i’d appreciate it if ya didn’ do that...”

“Oh yeah? Well I’d appreciate it if you _didn’t lock me up and chain me to the wall!_ But we don’t always get what we want, now do we?”

Inky’s anger had flared back up, spitting out the words Axe and Richard both used on him with absolute venom, but it was a short lived fire. Without the energy reserves to keep it going, the spite flickered out almost as soon as it sparked to life.

Inky sighed, looking exhausted and resigned to his fate.

“Look, just… just go ahead and take me back already, alright? These crutches are stupid and they hurt and I just want to have a nap right now…”

Axe hummed in thought as he eyed the smaller bitty before him. The colors of his eyes, a dark blue and cyan, look washed out. Paled into pastels. Such colors are some of Axe’s favorites but these just further enhance Inky’s exhausted look. Overall it’s probably not a good thing his eyelights are like this. The little artist needs rest.

But unfortunately naps will have to wait for later.

Reaching out for the smaller bitty, Axe was met with no resistance as he scooped Inky into his arms. He carefully adjusted his hold so as to not agitate the leg fracture, lifted him, held him gentle and close… and then turned around to start walking out the alleyway and down the sidewalk.

Any fatigued and dejected look Inky had about him evaporated immediately.

“Uhhh… Axe? Murder Alley is the other way,” the little artist said as he looked between the Horror’s face and what lied behind them. Axe let out another breathy laugh.

“still callin’ it tha’?”

“Yes. Now where we going and why?”

“Store… need ta do sum shoppin’,” Axe explained as he walked close along the building walls to avoid being stepped on by the ongoing foot traffic. “‘aven’t been able ta scavenge properly wit’ ya runnin’ around, so yer comin’ wit’... ya can rest durin’ the walk there.”

Axe then glanced down at the crutches in Inky’s hold before looking at the artist. Bone brow raised, a hint of an amused, knowing inflection was heard in his voice as he said “or ya can walk if ya want…”

“Don’t you dare put me down,” Inky said with a glare sent Axe’s way, but his gaze soon shifted down to the crutches. He had a thoughtful look to him for a few seconds, an ellipses and hourglass of cyan and purple, before he suddenly and very violently chucked the accursed things towards the street where they will either be run over or stepped on _**like they deserve.**_

“If I’m going to get a ride, I wanna be tall,” the smaller bitty said as he started climbing his way up to Axe’s shoulder. It was a bit difficult to do with Axe’s body shaking with quiet laughter at Inky’s abrupt and aggressive antics, but the big guy helped him get settled and secured. 

There. Now he can be taller than the mountain. It was a bit odd feeling the jagged edges of Axe’s skull press into his side, but if Inky was going to have a hand on the guy’s head for stability then it was best if that hand was holding the side that _wasn’t_ caved in.

“So, what are we shopping for? We going to loot the place?” Inky asked as they reached a street corner with people already gathering to wait for the light to change. “Something tells me you don’t have the money to pay for it all.”

Inky could see Axe smile underneath his turtleneck from his angle up high. “yep,” he said simply as he eyed the people in front of him carefully. “ya against tha’?”

“Nah, not really. Just want to know if you expect me to hold the cashier at gunpoint or something while you ransack the place for goodies.”

Axe let a snort slip at Inky’s remark and felt himself relaxing.

This was more like it… No fighting, no vehemently spewed words, no attempts to stab him in the face… Just a bitty sassing on his shoulder making him laugh as they wait for the light to change. He prefers it like this, but he’s not sure how to keep it this way while also keeping Inky all to himself.

Something to ponder for later, he supposes. For now he needs to focus on getting across the street.

“hang on…” he says just as the light turns. Quickly, Axe climbed up the back of a tall leather boot he’s been eying and clung to the back of it. One hand on the top lip of the shoe, the other holding onto Inky as the smaller hugged his skull for safety. They managed to secure themselves just in time for the person to begin stepping off the curb. Hitchhiking is not always the most reliable way of crossing a street, but between all the feet and the risk of the light turning too soon, it certainly is one of the safest.

Once on the other side, Axe dropped and dashed over to the building walls before they could get trampled. “ya don’ got ta do much,” Axe said as he took this moment to rest and observe their new surroundings before continuing onward. “jus’ be a lookout… should be quick. jus’ gotta grab yer monster candy, salt, n’ some food…”

Inky’s neck nearly broke at the speed his head turned to look down at Axe. Shocked eyelights of double green with an accompanying question mark and exclamation point bore into him. He… Axe wanted to get WHAT?

“Hold on! Let me see if I heard you correctly,” Inky said completely bewildered as Axe started walking again. “You want… to get Monster Candy.”

“yep.”

“The thing that will heal my leg.”

“mhm.”

“Which is the _only_ thing keeping me from literally RUNNING like a bat out of Hell and will **undoubtedly** make keeping me prisoner much harder.”

“yes.”

“What the fuck. I thought you were joking about that!” Because what better way is there to lull a bitty into a false sense of security like bandaging them up and telling them magical healing is on the way?

“nope.”

Inky stared at this apparently crazy person utterly bewildered, green eyelights now a spiral and ellipses. Jaw dropped, after a long few seconds of disbelieving silence the smaller bitty could not help but breath out an exasperated and very emphatic “ _ **Why?**_ ”

Axe’s eyelight glanced up at the thoroughly confused bitty on his shoulder for a few thoughtful moments before returning back to focusing on the sidewalk ahead of them.

“yer leg will heal regardless...” he mumbled. “best ta fix it before ya snap it wit’ all yer runnin’.”

“Okay that’s nice, but that doesn’t explain anything,” Inky pressed, still not seeing the logic in this for the psychopath. “Why even bother healing it at all? Heck! Why not just chop both my legs off and be done with it?! Not like a decoration needs to walk or anything!”

Axe stopped in his tracks and looked off to the side, his gaze distant and thoughtful as he hummed in contemplation.

“………….What the fuck NO! DON’T CONSIDER IT! WHAT THE HELL _**STOP**_!!”

Oh shit why did he say that?! Why did he put that idea in his head?!! Oh fuck Oh Fuck OH FUCK **OH FUCK _OH FUCK_ \--**!

“nah.”

“...........Nah?”

“nah...” Axe repeated. “already considered keepin’ ya crippled… chucked it. ‘m not keen on ya sufferin’...”

“You’re… not?” Axe grunted an affirmative with a slight head nod. Inky thought back to these past few days and found himself realizing that compared to all the crazy, obsessive, psychotic, staby-stab, serial killers he’s seen in movies and TV shows, Axe has been… surprisingly tame. The epitome of restraint, actually.

The guy is immensely strong. Inky’s seen him push that heavy ass tool box out of the way like it was nothing, yet he can only ever remember Axe handling him gingerly. Gently, even. The Horror also has a somehow hidden collection of knives he uses to kill small creatures on a regular basis, but he’s never turned a blade on him. Never threatened him with them even when he’s trying to impale the guy’s boney butt with magic attacks.

Perhaps because the power gap between them is so absurdly big Axe just doesn’t see the need to do more than pick him up and block attacks to get his way? ……….No, that can’t be right. Inky is not blind; he can see those grey bags burned underneath the other’s sockets. It’s clear that his escape attempts have been wearing on him. It’d be so easy for Axe to scare him into submission… To beat him and get him a pretty dress that will hide the broken bones and bruises to _MAKE_ him do what he wants….

But he doesn’t.

Axe should be cold and cruel, but he isn’t.

He should be starving him and have him sleep in subpar conditions to break his spirit, but the guy takes the time to make sure he is well fed and has a cage that is just as comfy as it is beautiful. 

Is this perhaps another case of Hollywood not matching up to real life? Or has Inky been FAR more fortunate than he initially believed?

“............I… suppose I should thank you for that,” spoke Inky eventually, quietly. “All things considered, you could be treating me… so much worse.” So, _**SO**_ much worse. “I’m used to people forcing me to do what they want, but you’ve been… surprisingly kind and considerate, so umm... thank you...”

“...........wouldn’t go callin’ it ‘kind’ ta be honest…” Axe began, sounding distant. “i ‘ave my own reasons fer not wantin’ ta hurt ya, n’ it got nothin’ ta do wit’ kindness……….. wouldn’t even use tha’ word ta describe myself...”

Axe’s voice took a turn for the melancholic at the end there, and was even quieter than usual. Inky couldn’t help but snap to attention at the sudden change, seeing that the large, red eyelight now looked fuzzy around the edges as the other’s thoughts went far away. The tone just sounded so sad and… resigned? Why? For not believing he’s kind?

Inky’s mind was spinning with questions.

Why didn’t he want him to suffer? Why did he think he wasn’t kind? _Why did he care?_ But surprisingly, after all the anger and fighting these past few days, the question at the forefront of Inky’s list was if the big guy is okay.

“Axe...” Inky began slowly, “are you alri--”

“keepin’ watch ain’t hard,” Axe suddenly interrupts. “should be an easy place ta hit too… one camera, n’ cashier at this time a day ain’t very observant...”

Inky let out a huff as he gives the larger bitty a light glare.

Fine. He can take a hint. Axe doesn’t want to talk about it. He still wants to know the answers to his questions, but Inky supposes he doesn’t have to know them right now.

For now, he should focus on the heist.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inky is used to getting physical comfort and cuddles from people he despises.
> 
> Axe, however, is NOT used to dealing with anything so hectic. His street life has been pretty quiet and tranquil so far, so having to wrangle a tiny firecracker all day everyday is a bit much for him. 
> 
> Will he break? Will he eventually give in and let Inky go? Who knows! Maybe the next chapter will have some answers. Tune in next time for "Bitty and the Beast" to find out~ :D


	7. This chapter is brought to you by the letter “F”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where we discover Axe can yell and Inky is a shit liar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally this insanity was meant to be part of Ch. 6 but I felt it deserved it’s own chapter. xD

Inky and Axe waited inside the bushes growing next to the entrance of a 24 hour gas station convenience store. The larger bitty kept an arm held around the waist of the smaller standing next to him as he kneeled in the dirt, watching the automatic doors. 

They could feel two souls inside. One hovering where the cashier would be and another wandering around. Axe kept an eye on the one inside while Inky kept a look out for anyone aiming to walk in. At this time of day people driving in to buy gas or snacks is likely, but if they just stay hidden they should be fine. If they could only just--

Axe tightens his grip on Inky as the soul inside draws closer to the entrance, and as soon as the doors slide open Inky’s world is engulfed in darkness as a feeling of weightlessness overtakes him. The little artist couldn’t breathe, causing a moment of panic as he is reminded of the rats and his nightmares, but before the memory of drowning could overtake him the world came back.

There’s light, there’s air, there’s Axe dragging him behind an ATM located next to the doors.

Inky was limp in his grasp, groaning as the world tilted in the wake of his dizziness. Axe quickly put a hand over the smaller’s mouth before craning his neck to see the cashier. They are an antelope looking Monster. A young adult. Barely old enough to sell those cigarettes behind them, it seems, judging by the way they kept their eyes glued to a phone with headphones blaring music into their ears, indifferent to the world. Their soul sang a lazy and bored tune that suited their apathetic attitude.

Axe relaxed and looked back down at Inky, removing his hand as he helped the little guy stand upright. “ya okay…?” he asked as his one eyelight scanned the other up and down for anything amiss. Inky waved him off.

“Yeah… yeah, I’m fine,” the artist said as he closed his sockets shut to help reorient the world back to normal. “Just my first shortcut is all.”

“ya can’t use ‘em...?”

“Nope,” Inky said, feeling better. His multicolored gaze peeked out around the corner of the money machine, taking in what he could see of the layout of the store. There’s a checkout counter, a coffee station island in front of that, and aisles running lengthwise to the back of the store where there’s the freezer with drinks. The wall with the entrance has newspapers and magazines while on the other side of the store has stuff like a slurpee machine and nachos. “That feature had to be cut to make room for other magic... Inkies are generally pretty active though so it’s not like we really needed it anyway.”

Axe hummed in understanding. Some bitty-types are like that. Shortcuts, blasters, and bone attacks are common magical abilities for Sans bitties, but sometimes a type will have more than that and will need something cut back to have the magic available for it. Axe bitties, for example, can’t use blasters in order to make room for their unique “product features”. With how shit his magical reserves are though, Axe thinks they should have cut more than that, but oh well. Not much he can do about it.

“hrmmm... was wonderin’ why ya weren’t usin’ ‘em…” Axe mumbled before tapping on Inky’s shoulder and pointing to the only security camera the store had in the far corner. 

“And you’re _sure_ that thing can’t see us?” Inky asked as he eyed the camera warily. Axe nodded.

“shelves are too tall, n’ we’re too short...” he explained. “jus’ avoid goin’ ta tha freezers… ya remember wha’ ta do?”

“Two pulses for someone coming in or if the cashier does something, and three pulses if there’s trouble.”

Axe nodded with a grunt, and then had his soul give off two quick bursts of energy that held a quizzical tone. Inky side eyed the cashier cautiously before letting off his own pair of pulses in quick succession with feelings of reassurement.

Yes, he knows how to do this, don’t worry, but wow. That antelope girl did not react at ALL. Inky knows that Monsters aren’t as sensitive to Soul stuff as bitties are, but damn. He expected at least a twitch or something. Perhaps this will work after all.

Satisfied with Inky’s performance, Axe disappeared with a soft pop and reappeared farther away behind the coffee station. From there he was completely out of sight of the cashier and was able to walk down one of the aisles unhindered. Once the Horror was gone Inky looked about himself and decided that his hiding spot was unsatisfactory. Were someone to walk over this way he’d be completely visible.

Peeping around the corner, Inky judged that the Monster lady is a touch too distracted to notice him dart over to the shelves in front of the ATM. From then on he should be completely obscured from her view.

Somewhat regretting chucking his crutches, and yet not at all at the same time, the artisan bitty summoned a bone construct to act as a cane and hobbled over to the candy lined shelves as quickly as he could. Once out of the cashier’s line of sight, Inky took the time to really look over the wide selection of candy that stretched all the way to the other side of the store. He’s amazed by just how many colorful packages there are. Never before has he seen so many sweets in one place. Not even at any of the parties his owner used to take him to.

Then he saw it. Just further down the aisle were several different brands of marshmallows. Big ones, small ones, colorful ones-

_Colorful ones._

Inky didn’t even know they came like that!

Perhaps against his better judgement, the tiny artist bitty limped his way towards the puffy, sweet treats. Eyelights growing huge, probably stars of pink and yellow if he were to guess, Inky looked at the multicolored mallow treats before him with a watering mouth.

This… Would it be alright if they take one of these too? Axe DID mention food on the shopping list. This counts as food, right? Maybe not REAL food, but still food. Reaching a tentative hand towards the plastic wrapping, Inky froze for a moment.

He feels a soul coming towards the entrance.

Quickly, Inky sent off two quick soul pulses while climbing his way onto the shelf and pushing past the ultra squishy packaging. After a few seconds, he could sense Axe giving off a single pulse to let him know he got the signal. Almost immediately after that a human walked through the automatic doors.

Their soul sang a rushed tune as this person wandered around the store. Late to work maybe? It sounded a bit irritable too, so quite possibly. After a few minutes Inky heard the two people souls sing to each other, dictating an interaction. One languid and slow, the other an increasing tempo of annoyance. If Inky had to guess, the Monster lady is taking a bit too long for the customer’s liking and is not caring about it in the slightest.

And then they were out of the store half running. Inky could smell a hot dog and freshly made coffee following the human’s trail. Reassured that they wouldn’t return, Inky wiggled his way out between the puffy soft bags and… ended up dropping a few colored marshmallows on the ground.

At some point while he was waiting for the customer to leave, Inky decided to cut open a bag and grab himself an armful of small, pigmented marshmallows. One of which has already been stuffed into his tiny mouth. With each of these treats being the size of the bitty’s hand, they are quite the load.

They were already robbing the place, so why not steal himself a snack? Biting down on the comparatively giant mallow and pulling away what’s left with a free hand, Inky chewed and let his magic dissolve the treat as he looked around.

The marshmallow bags were comfy but suffocating with how much they squished him. So while Inky would love it if Axe decided to use it as building material for his next cage, he’d rather not hide there. Perhaps he could hide among the snacks on the top shelf? It’d be good cover AND he’d be able to see everything. All Inky needs to do is summon a bone from the ground, grab it, and use it like an elevator as it grows up and--

Inky takes one look at the newspaper stand in front of him and ends up spitting out undissolved marshmallow remains. The artist is so glad he doesn’t have a throat right now because he’s pretty sure he’d be CHOKING!

“Oh no… No, no, no, no...!” Inky whispered frantically to himself as he limped towards the displayed newspapers, unknowingly letting the delicious treats fall out of his arms along the way. 

“Damnit, Richard…!” his quieted voice squeaked, desperate as he reread the newspaper headlines. Inky suddenly felt very nauseous. “Just leave me alone…!”

Of course he’d do this! Of course! Why would he think otherwise?! This is going to make things SO much harder for him! And Axe--

……………….Oh _SHIT_.

**A X E**

He’s been nothing but a pain in the ass for the guy! He… he can’t let him see this. If he does then… T-Then there is a very good chance that… 

No, Inky is NOT going back! Not now, not ever! He will willingly _cut his own legs off_ for the crazy bastard if it means never going back to Richard. What will he do?!

Panic stricken, distressed out of his mind, Inky looks about himself for a solution to these newspapers existing. Obviously during such mental states people come up with the most amazing ideas that most certainly won’t backfire in any way because they’re just that amazing, and when Inky saw the little bic lighters by the cash register, he got one.

………………………….  
Axe has nearly finished shopping by now. Hefting up a tin can full of peaches, the Horror then drops it over his shoulder where it promptly disappeared. Going where the knives and kiss chocolate pieces live alongside the rest of his groceries.

Axe wishes he could do this more often. It’s much easier to steal what you need than to scavenge and hunt, but it’s always a risk. The less he breaks the law the less likely the police will come along and throw him into the nearest adoption center... or worse. Dusting underneath the heel of an annoyed policeman may be preferable to the center’s Mama calling his owner, but he’d still rather avoid either situation.

This time though he has a lookout. Without worrying he’ll be too distracted to notice the souls around him, the chances of getting caught decrease dramatically. Although once the Horror rounded the corner to meet back up with Inky, Axe couldn’t help but think that perhaps… perhaps… he’d have been better off alone instead.

Because what greeted him was the sight of Inky _lighting newspapers **on FIRE!**_

“inky…!” Axe yelled with that rough, deep voice of his completely dismayed by what he’s seeing in front of him. 

The aforementioned bitty jumped, startled, causing him to dismiss the rainbow glow surrounding the lighter and thus drop the floating object onto the floor with a clack. Inky spun on his heel, looking like a deer caught in headlights with his eyelights cycling through several shapes and colors. 

With humongous sockets, a rigid body, and hands laced behind his back like as though he were trying to hide something, the artist had the gall to ask with a squeak in his voice “What?”

_“why…?!”_

“Why what?”

“the fire!”

“What fire?”

Axe stared at the other in utter disbelief for a few quiet seconds as multicolored sweat began beading on Inky’s skull. Whether from being so nervous or the heat of the flames, the Horror didn’t know.

The fire by this point spread to the magazines next to the newspaper stand.

“...that fire,” he says in his usual calm, quiet voice while pointing at the steadily growing inferno.

Inky slowly turns his head to look and, as fake as can be, jumps lightly like as though he were surprised. “Oh! A fire!” the smaller says in a badly acted voice. “How did that happen?”

Axe gives him a hard stare for a few seconds before obviously directing his gaze down at the fallen bic lighter. It landed just behind Inky but half of it is still in view.

Inky then felt back around with his injured leg, keeping his eyelights on Axe, until his foot made contact with the lighter and he pushed it further behind himself. Like as though that would actually make the thing go away along with Axe’s memory of it.

“..........................................This isn’t working, is it?”

“nope.”

_**“Oh my STARS!!!”** _

Both bitties snapped their heads back over to where the scream came from. Apparently the cashier finally noticed all the burning merchandise.

As fast as possible, Axe grabbed Inky and shortcutted away just before the antelope lady came running up with a fire extinguisher in hand. Luckily she ran past the automatic doors, causing them to open and allowing the small skeletons to escape.

Axe did not stop running until he and Inky were safe and sound in some bushes on the other side of the gas station. The Horror and artist stood there and watched as the poor employee locked the doors open to allow all the smoke to air out. One bitty is really nervous, while the other is deathly quiet.

Until Axe started laughing.

Started laughing so hard that he doubled over and fell to the ground, hugging his nonexistent gut. He just couldn’t take how _utterly_ ridiculous all of that was. What the fuck, Inky? _What the fuck?_

Meanwhile the little artist was standing there shocked by the booming laughter ringing forth from Axe’s metaphorical throat. He was very surprised when he heard the usually soft spoken bitty yell at him in the store, but this is on another level. He didn’t think his voice could be so loud! He’s even laughing harder than he did the other night during the brain goop incident.

Inky felt himself relax.

He can’t be in TOO much trouble for his dumb stunt if it pulled a reaction like this out of Axe.

Eventually the Horror did calm and he looked over at Inky with blue-grey tears glowing in the corner of his eyes. Sockets and crimson eyelight both crinkled up from the wide smile hiding underneath the turtleneck. 

“stars on _**fire**_ …!” he exclaimed between chuckling fits. _“inky why?”_

“O-Oh uhh… No particular reason,” Inky fibbed as he quickly looked back to the store, seeing that now there was a small crowd formed close to the entrance. “I just… I was bored.”

“hehe... liar...” Axe breathed with an amused laugh in his graveled voice as he slowly calmed and regained his breath. Letting out a sigh, the larger bitty then rose to his feet and dusted off his ratty gym shorts. “so really… why--?”

“Candy~?”

Axe looked over at Inky to see him with hands extended in a gimmie motion. The smaller’s voice had gone higher, resulting in a very cute tone that paired really well with the adorably big eyelights of a yellow star and pink flower filling his sockets. He even tucked his chin down to complete the look.

Axe snorted and reached behind himself to abruptly pull out a package about the size of a small candy bar full of large, green gummy balls. There seem to be only about five in there.

“Someday I’m going to get you to tell me how you do that.”

“tell ya now if ya say why ya set the fire.”

“.......Candy~!”

Another snort accompanied by some chuckling. Axe ripped open the packaging and handed over the green gummy that’s about the size of Inky’s head. The tiny bitty then immediately began to happily nom at the treat, humming at the delicious taste of magic.

“fine, fine… jus’ stop bein’ cute…”

_“Hurk!”_

For the second time that day, Inky very nearly choked. Face alight with a rainbow glow, Inky powered through the rest of the candy as Axe watched on in amusement like the ass he is. Once all of the Monster Candy was consumed, tiny body full of green magic, the little artist put weight on his once injured leg and felt no pain.

He then poked at his femur, something that would have caused a burning throb before, and felt nothing.

Inky bounced up and down and was delighted to find everything is in working order.

Pulling up the hem of his tattered, stained dress, Inky was quick to undo the bandage and see that the fracture was now completely healed. The only evidence left of its existence is a faded scar trailing up the length of the femur. Inky lightly traced the line of ossified scar tissue with a fingertip, suddenly realizing that there’s a red glow reflecting off his bones.

Looking up, Inky found Axe closely observing the scar as well. Probably to see how well it healed, but that didn’t stop the smaller bitty from giving him an embarrassed death glare as he quickly shoved his hem back down. Red skull, magenta X.

Axe was unaffected.

“so…” the larger began as they both straightened up, “‘bout tha’ fire…”

“Oh look at that! Time to go back home!” Inky yelled as he spun on his heel and hopped his way out of the bushes. “Murder Alley here we come! C’mon, Axe, we’re burning daylight here!”

The Horror let out an airy laugh and shook his head before following the smaller’s lead.

Fine, he can take a hint. The little pyromaniac can keep his secret for now... 

Axe will just figure it out tomorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now you guys know why "budding pyromaniac" was included among the tags.
> 
> Also, a map! It's sketchy and has messy handwriting, but I made it to give me a better idea of the store's layout and how to write for it. It's not much, but I figure I'd include it for those who might find it neat. (:
> 
>   
> 


	8. Too tired to fuck off

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Inky actually tries to think something through.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted an excuse to use this and I found it.  
> https://dreaming-mystic.tumblr.com/post/623131207576764416/kimberlylikescherries-dreaming-mystic
> 
> ===================
> 
> Also, I got fan art, you guys! Look! 8D
> 
> **ThatGiantSouffleMonster's snuggly picture:** https://cafe-sugar-skull.tumblr.com/post/627069637781225472/no-this-is-beautiful-im-freaking-out-im
> 
> **EternalMyriadOfStars' picture of our bitty boops as DRAGONS:** https://cafe-sugar-skull.tumblr.com/post/627260829755179008/eternalmyriadofstars-cafe-sugar-skull-first
> 
> **KimberlyLikesCherries's drawing of what happened after an Anon gave Inky a flamethrower/lighter thing:** https://cafe-sugar-skull.tumblr.com/post/627475760044720128/its-beautiful-cafe-sugar-skull-yeeeeeeeeeeeeee

Inky is not liking how he’s getting used to waking in unfamiliar places. 

The little artist distinctly remembers falling asleep on the back of a plush kitty toy, but as his consciousness finally returned from dreamland, the smaller could feel that the material beneath him was yarn instead of cotton. Inky groaned as he realized this.

Lovely. Another day, another cage.

Stretching, Inky startled himself awake fully when his hand made contact with a hard, cool surface, resulting in a clang. With blurry eyelights, Inky looked over to where the sound came from and found himself met with a silver, metal wall.

He’s in a metal box. A proper cage with bars lining one side while all the rest are solid sheets of metal. It reminds him of the kennel cages he’s seen at the vet’s office, but smaller. A good size for an adult cat. 

As per usual there’s been decorating. Flowy scarves hung along the walls, soft fleece fabric lines the bottom of the cage with a large doily laid out on top to act as a rug, and his bed is a wooden cigar box full of cotton with a knitted hat laid out on top. He’s been tucked snugly inside the beanie while the kitty plush toy he slept on last night is sitting in the corner. Aside from that, the rest of the cage has been filled with haphazardly placed gemstones, geodes, and other shiny bobbles that reflect pretty lights.

At first Inky thought it strange that Axe would stick him in a box. No light means no pretty rainbow glow for the guy to look at after all, but then his sleep-addled mind finally caught on to the fact that this cage is actually full of sunlight instead of the expected darkness.

Looking up, Inky was stunned by the answer. At first he thought he was looking at a lightbulb glowing bright, but he soon realized it was just the bottom half of a water bottle that’s been seemingly stuffed through a hole in the ceiling and secured with some kind of cement glue. One full of water that refracted the sunlight that shined through the bottle everywhere. 

It’s… holy crap, that’s creative. Inky’s impressed. _How’d Axe come up with that?_ It’s just as good as an electric light!

Feeling a rumble in his soul shard, Inky finally pulled his gaze away from the illuminated water bottle and climbed out of bed.

“Axe…!” Inky called out with a yawn slipping past his teeth. “Axe, is breakfast ready?!”

Yep, he’s definitely getting too used to this if the first thing on his mind to yell at the bitty keeping him prisoner is about _food_.

Walking up to the bars, Inky looked out upon the rest of Axe’s cluttered collection of pretties and saw… neither hide nor hair of the larger bitty.

But he does see a plate full of salted meat and a folded note.

Kneeling down, Inky reached through the bars to grab the piece of paper. Flipping it open revealed it to contain a short message: _‘out scavenging. left double portions for you in case i don’t make it back for lunch. be back soon. --axe’_

……………….Inky is suddenly reminded of his little revelation from yesterday. About just how… _nice_ Axe has been. Far nicer than he’d expect from someone who has the mentality to seriously consider _chopping someone’s legs off_ as a possible solution to his problems. It has left him with… mixed feelings. 

On one hand Axe is keeping him prisoner because apparently he makes for a lovely decoration. To the Horror he’s just another trinket to hoard for his collection. More object than person. It’s honestly very creepy and unsettling how he stares at him when he’s marveling over his “prettiness”.

On the other hand Axe is surprisingly considerate and kind, despite what the big guy seems to think of himself. A real gentle giant of a bitty who is far more concerned with Inky’s comfort than he really should be.

Inky wants to hold onto his anger, his spite, his indignation at being restrained and locked away against his will, but he’s now found that the majority of that has evaporated. It’s been oh so very easy to hate Richard, but with Axe he’s now finding it difficult to maintain such loathing.

Which is kinda really messed up. The primary driving force of Inky’s rebellion is yielding just because his captor actually seems to give a damn about his well-being. Because he treats him well. _Because he’s nice_. The heck does that say about his life? About how it’s been so far? That he’s growing complaisant with the idea of being chained up for display just because his current warden doesn’t want him to _suffer._

It’s a bit depressing honestly… and is a problem. A big problem. This is probably how Stockholm Syndrome starts, ugh...

Grabbing one of the strips of salted meat, Inky then gets comfortable as he leans his back against the bars of his cage. Nibbling on his breakfast, the artist turned his thoughts inward as he tries to sort out this conflicted, emotional mess he’s found himself in.

How does he _really_ feel towards his captor now? Does he like him? Does he despise him? Does he think the guy is kind? An insane person to avoid? A disturbed individual that could be reasoned with? A giant jerk?

Inky wasn’t sure. All he knew was that Axe confused him. Made him feel conflicted and… strange as these opposing feelings and opinions mix poorly within him. It’s uncomfortable and makes him feel a little sick.

Letting out a huff, Inky shook his head before aggressively tearing off a bite of flesh with his teeth. This muddled grey-zone the artist finds himself in is frustrating, so he chucks this dumpster fire of an emotional problem into the bin to figure out later. For now, it’ll be easier to sort out what he _wants_ from the situation, rather than figuring out _how_ he’s supposed to feel towards this obviously psychotic bitty.

Looking down at his hand, Inky chewed thoughtfully as he observed that ethereal rainbow iridescence that Axe so adores. He holds the prismatic limb up to the light, making the halo more noticable, and as the artisan bitty absently notes just how soft the pastel glow is he considers what he wants.

Inky wants… to not be chained up. That’s a given. He doesn’t want to be forced to stay somewhere against his will. He wants a say in what does and does not happen to him. He wants the right of autonomy.

Richard once told him we don’t always get what we want, but in Inky’s case he _never_ got what he wanted. Everything in his life was already decided for him without his input, without his consent. Forced upon him without care nor compassion.

Axe is nice. He seems kind, even if the larger bitty disagrees. Inky being his decoration already promises to be far better than being his old owner’s pet… but once you get right down to it, it’s the same sort of situation.

Axe doesn’t care what he wants. He’s not going to allow him a say in what happens to him. The Horror is going to force him to stay whether he likes it or not.

If Inky is going to stay with the nice psychopath for any length of time, he wants it to be on his terms. He wants it to be his choice.

And Axe is not going to give him that.

With such reasoning it’s clear to Inky that he still needs to escape. The decision and rational behind it eases the knot of anxiety that had been twisting around in his nonexistent gut. His thoughts put at ease, the tiny artist scarfs down the rest of his meat strip before grabbing another one and standing up.

“Now, if I were something breakable, where would I be…?” Inky mumbles to himself before nomming his food, giving his designated living space a critical look. After wandering around, looking for weak spots, the little artist was able to quickly conclude that Axe must have indeed stolen this cage with how good its condition is. No rusting, loose screws, or anything. His bone bullets are tough but not tough enough to penetrate metal.

Aaaaaaaaaand the heavy duty lock is back, securing the barred door in place. Which is utterly fantastic. A real joy, truly. 

Left with no other choice, Inky swallows the rest of his food and looks up at the one weak spot in the whole enclosure: the water bottle.

Inky groans, not wanting to destroy such a pretty and creative source of light, but it has to be done. Climbing on top of the makeshift bed, Inky stood as tall as he could on such a squishy surface while facing the overhead light. Holding a hand up, the artist summoned an extra sharp, extra long bone attack, and then with a swift swipe of said hand through the air, the bone made a clean slice in the plastic, cutting the bottle in half.

All the water within immediately dropped out of the container alongside the severed bottom half. Inky flinched from the resulting splash back when the liquid smacked the ground with a wet plop. Him, the bed, and most everything else in the prison cell has gotten hit in some capacity. The cage interior is now dark save for the beam of sunlight shining through the hole above.

“Well, that could have gone better...” Inky said as he wiped large water droplets off the front of his dress. Perhaps he should have thought through the consequences a bit more… Thankfully it seems the fleece carpeting is soaking up most of the water. Otherwise the colorful bitty would be finding out first hand if Axe’s kindness still persisted even after the liquid leaked out and caused water damage to the rest of his collection.

Summoning a tall bone out of the ground directly underneath the sliced bottle, Inky leapt off the edge of the cigar box over the sopping wet carpeting to cling onto the magic construct. Wrapping his limbs around the bone securely, the bitty then willed the bone to grow taller and taller until Inky is inside the water bottle. Summoning a smaller bone into his hand, Inky stabbed the splintered end into the clear plastic and sliced it around the bottle’s circumference. It was a bit awkward since it was a tight space, but he managed it and was able to successfully shove the top off and pull himself up and over the freshly cut lip. He tumbled out upon the cool, metallic surface of the cage, and let out a sigh as he laid upon his back sprawled out. Soon that sigh was replaced with a whoop as Inky stretched his arms towards the sky in victory. Okay, now just to… ugh…

Inky had a… lot harder time pushing himself to his feet than he would have liked. Now that he was not focusing all his energy on deep thinking and finding prison cell weak points, the little artist realized just how… tired he is.

Not sleep tired though. Inky feels as though his mind has had plenty of rest, but his body feels fatigued for some strange reason. It aches in a strange way too, reminding him of how he felt that first night here when Axe fixed up his leg, though to a lesser degree. All that crap with the river and rats really pushed him past his limits. That was the very definition of exhaustion, but why does he feel like that right now?

Inky stared up at the hanging decorations as he tried to pinpoint exactly when he must have exhausted himself so thoroughly. Two possible factors immediately come to mind. First off, all this struggling and fighting with Axe these past few days, fueled by nothing but pure spite and anger, has been… well… absolutely exhausting. Anger is a bright, _bright_ fire that can make one move mountains, but it also has the tendency to burn you from the inside out until there is nothing left. With the flames of his own ire towards the Horror Sans extinguished, Inky not surprised that among the ashen remains only a deep fatigue is left for him to feel.

And then there’s _yesterday_.

Oh Soul Fathers above he may have screwed himself. To say Inky was excited that he could walk again is putting it mildly. The entire way back to Murder Alley the little artist either skipped or literally ran circles around Axe -who annoyingly kept up with his shortcuts- and when they got back he continued his celebration by running and jumping and climbing wherever he could get away with it. And that was BEFORE Axe revealed he also stole a package of sour gummy worms. Stars on fire, he should never be allowed to have candy… It’s no wonder he collapsed on the kitty cat after all the bouncing around he did… At least Axe seemed entertained by it all. 

Anyway, putting those two things together, Inky really shouldn’t be so surprised that his body is finally rebelling against him. Inky took one look at the mountains of trinkets, thought about what he’d have to do once he was out of the house, and…

“............................Fuck it, I’m going on vacation.”

He turns around and jumps off the cage, landing on unsteady feet, and begins making his way down the quilted pathways.

A day off would be nice… and seems to be the most practical thing to do right now. Inky’s track record of sneaking out unnoticed by Axe while he’s out doing… whatever it was he did during the day, is absolutely abysmal. Running out right now like he usually does feels like a bad idea. For today he’ll relax and recuperate so that way he’ll be in good condition for his escape. Heck, he’ll even prepare and hide a baggie full of food and other supplies so that he’ll have what he needs when it IS time to make a run for it.

He’ll just… run tomorrow.

…………..Inky honestly doesn’t feel all that great about this decision, but in his condition he doesn’t think he’ll be able to get away. Not if Axe finds him again. May as well just take the gamble that he’ll be able to get out of tomorrow’s cage too when he should be feeling much better.

After raiding that damn fabric box, Inky quickly sewed together a simple satchel and stuffed it full of preserved meat and other goodies. He then hid his getaway bag close to the blocked entrance and…

Was at a loss of what to do next.

Yeah, Inky wants to rest and relax, but he doesn’t want to do nothing but lay around all day. That sounds positively boring. What could he do to--

A thought came to mind. A dangerous one.

One that caused his metaphysical gut to twist anxiously, full of dread.

N-No, he shouldn’t… But oh, he’s not “home”. He’s… No. No! He can’t. _He can’t_. Richard will… But Richard is not here.

He’s not here.

_ He’s **NOT** here. _

Inky felt himself shaking violently even with the reassuring mantra, forcing him to hold himself and take in deep, steadying breaths. In 1, 2, 3… Out 1, 2, 3… In 1, 2, 3… Out 1, 2, 3… and so he kept going until the little bitty felt he had calmed down enough.

Richard is not here. Inky can do what he wants. He won’t find out. Even if by some cruel trick of fate Inky ends up back in his hands, Richard will never know if he…

The tiny, little artist took a cautious look around, feeling so very small and vulnerable as he slowly looks about to confirm that the human he dreads is nowhere to be seen. It’s irrational, he knows… but it helps.

It’s then he spotted that sake bottle full of beautiful flowers that Axe has up and center on display. Inky’s felt his hand twitch and…

And hopes Richard will never find out.

  
.:~*----------------*~:.  


Axe had been fully prepared to hunt Inky down that day.

After seeing all that energy the smaller bitty displayed yesterday, he was convinced that the little guy would use it and his newly healed legs to run from here to the other side of the city once he figured out how to break his newest accommodations. His little china doll has a knack for doing that, and the Horror will admit that he left a glaring weak point in that bottle light he made. Still, it was something he'd been wanting to try, and he was running out of time -and ideas- to make something more substantial to hold his pretty bitty.

Axe did his best to stay close to the house so that he could sense when Inky left, but his search for a specific _**something**_ forced him to go out farther and _longer_ than he would have liked. It would have been the perfect time for the little china doll to slip out and make him play the tracking game for hours on end. The Horror was fully anticipating this assumed fate, ready to feel the wear and ache he was going to feel by the end of it, but… that didn’t happen.

To say Axe was surprised Inky never left the house was an understatement. For a minute there Axe thought he was hallucinating as he walked down Murder Alley to the giant crate that made his home. That perhaps the inherited craziness that widely afflicted his bitty-type had somehow advanced and only made him _think_ he’s feeling the other’s soul in the house, but no. Inky is indeed there. 

Pushing past the heavy toolbox blocking the entrance, Axe was greeted with the pleasant sound of the smaller’s humming filling the quiet of the cluttered crate. Something melodic and unfamiliar. Following the soft crooning up quilted pathways, Axe’s jaw dropped upon being met with a very unexpected sight.

There were paintings. Paintings everywhere. Cardboard cutouts painted over with images of vibrantly colored flowers of various types from several different angles. All of which are bright and beautiful and… familiar. Sockets wide, eyelight engorged with awe as it drifted from one masterpiece to the next, Axe almost didn’t realize that he was looking at artistic depictions of the vased flowers that stood tall before him. Stars, even the dead blooms looked beautiful on canvas...

Circling the sake bottle, Axe finally spied Inky perched upon a wooden alphabet block. Sitting in a butterfly stretch, a cardboard cutout larger than himself balanced upon tiny feet, the humming bitty worked on creating only what the Horror assumed was another masterpiece. Axe took another good look around at all the paintings that were scattered about. There were easily at least ten from where he could see alone, and as he was admiring the sheer amount of them a stray thought crossed his mind that caused him to suddenly take pause and ask a very important question.

“....................where did ya get all the paint?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was originally supposed to be apart of the next chapter, but the result was a single chapter the length of two chapters and that made me die a little inside. SO! I split it. Sorry about all the deep introspection here but Inky _REALLY_ needed to sort himself out.
> 
> He's a very emotional bitty. Very prone and content to just let his emotions guide him and his actions. Unfortunately they are confused and uncertain of Axe right now, so he had to logic his way to his deciding action.
> 
> Very important stuff, but it does mean the chapter just amounted to him breaking out of his cage and then fucking off to go do art, so again sorry. ^^;


	9. So Axe hears you were talking shit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where we learn Axe doesn't like lying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, no, I don't have control over these characters anymore. They do what they want.  
> .  
> .  
> .  
> .  
> .  
>  ~~Also, updating Saturdays now.~~

The humming was interrupted by a surprised squeak and a small flinch as Inky was startled out of his artistic trance. Peeking out from behind the corrugated canvas, Axe was able to see that there were smears of multiple colors smudged all over his skull. A cyan flower and yellow star stared back at him blankly, like as if the little artist hadn't fully realized Axe is there quite yet, before the lights shifted to a green exclamation point and a cyan circle.

“Axe! What are you doing back so soon?”

“...it’s mid-afternoon.”

“It is?”

Inky then looks up as the green exclamation point gets replaced with a swirl. He notices that the light coming in did not match what he’s come to expect from the morning. In fact it’s… much later than what he thought it was.

“Huh,” the little artist breathed before looking down at the unfinished painting sitting before him, taking note of the colors and shadows used. “.........Now that you mention it, the lighting has been getting kinda dim.” 

“did’ja least remember ta eat…?”

“...Yeeeeeeessss?” he answers, looking fairly guilty before the mention of food caused a loud, tratorious rumble to be heard emitting from Inky’s soul. The little artist blushed lightly as he hung his head down low. “Nooooo…”

Axe’s shoulders shook as he let out quiet huffs of laughter, shaking his head amused at the little artist’s forgetfulness.

“so, paint… where’d ya get it? ...don’ think i ‘ave any…”

He’s pretty sure he doesn’t have any. Vials of paint full of bright colors would be lovely additions to his collection, but Axe has never been able to find anything more than half empty and ruined plastic bottles of the stuff. For anything better he suspects he’d have to rob someone. A playful smirk graces Inky’s skull as he looks over at him with a cyan pentagram and a yellow clover.

“I’ll tell you if you tell me why you have so many cardboard squares just sitting around,” the little artist says as he sets his unfinished masterpiece down, leaning it against the side of his block seating. “They’re decent canvases but I wouldn’t exactly call them pretty.”

Inky did not look a gift horse in the mouth at the time he found a whole stash of precut, clean, cardboard squares to paint on. The little artist was just thankful he didn’t have to resort to using dirty street paper for his bit of fun, however, that did not mean he didn’t wonder why they were here in the first place. The drab material is very much out of place in Axe’s vibrant collection afterall. 

Instead of using words, Axe merely reached down and pulled up a section of the quilted path. It parted from the ground as a large square, making a kind of sticky, ripping sound on the way up. The giant bitty flipped up the bottom for Inky to see. It’s the same kind of cardboard cutout, but the quilted design had been stabled to it and there’s the remains of scotch tape sticking to the underside.

An understanding “Oh!” left Inky’s teeth before he pushed himself off the block to jump down. With the little artist now standing up, Axe could clearly see that the rest of Inky’s body fared no better than his face. Paint stains now mingle with the grass, dirt, and blood already marring his ruined dress. It's as though the fabric was used as a rag to clean the smaller’s brush. Inky’s hands were by far in the worst condition though. Axe isn’t even sure if he can see the bone anymore with such a mess.

_…………….And that mess is heading right for his quilts._

“Wow! I was wondering what that comfy squish was!” Inky said as he bent down to rip up his own title for a look-see. “Where’d you get the quilts? They’re all over the--”

Before his pigment covered digits could make contact with the fabric ground, giant hands darted over swift as can be and grabbed the tiny appendages. Fear that he would be hurt automatically filled Inky. A knee jerk reaction to being so suddenly grabbed, but as always with Axe, pain never came. Only ginger touches.

“made ‘em…” Axe answered as he gently lifted the dwarfed limbs _away_ from the relatively pristine fabric before letting go. A surprised face and green exclamation point looked up at him.

“Really? _You_ made all these?” Inky said as he looked around at all the quilts beneath their feet. Each one of them was unique. Designs repeated here and there, but no two titles were composed of the same pattern of colors and fabrics. Axe let out a huff.

“wha’? think all i do is scavenge…?”

“Weeeeeeeeeeeeeell… Not like I’ve ever see you do anything else.”

“n’ whose fault is tha’...?”

Kinda hard to find the time to do hobbies when there is a tiny terror needing to be wrangled. Axe gently poked at the smaller’s side to emphasize his words, inciting a squeak before Inky pushed the offending finger away with an indignant pout. The larger breathed out a light laugh at the retaliation before noticing that his hand has been dirtied with liquid color. Both hands actually. Axe grimaced as he held them up, looking between them.

In fact, now that he’s looking, Axe is noticing that pretty much everything Inky’s touched has been coated with colorful finger smears. He can pretty much pick out all the spots Inky must have sat throughout the day based on what’s been dirtied. A box here, a jar there… He’s going to have to get his little china doll clean before he seriously stains anything.

“So where did you learn to make quilts? Did you--”

“paint.”

“Huh?”

_“paint.”_

Oh right, Axe did ask that question. Twice even, Inky thinks. Seems he doesn’t want Inky to go off on a tangent before his burning inquiry is answered.

“Pfff… Fine, fine, I’ll tell you,” Inky laughs as he holds his hands out for the other to see. Now that Axe has a closer look, while all the artist’s fingers are a mess of mixed hues, the ends were, for the most part, pure in color. It was as though Inky had dipped the very end of each digit into a different pigment. Red, orange, yellow, green, cyan, blue, purple, magenta, black, white… Every color one could ever need to make any other color. Then suddenly the pigments began to drip from Inky’s phalanges, forming thin streams of color as they are secreted from the tips.

“See, look. I make the paint myself.”

Axe’s eyelight dilated, getting brighter as Axe bent down to get a closer look. He was entranced by sight of these tiny, colorful waterfalls. Their hue vibrant and _pure_ as they fell down to create small pools of pigment upon the--

“.........inky!”

The aforementioned bitty startled at the raised, slightly frantic voice, as Axe quickly cups his giant hands under the falling liquid, catching them, staining his sleeves and bone, before anymore paint could fall onto the quilted ground below.

“Oh, uhh… oops,” Inky said as he stopped the flow of magic paint. He looked up at the larger bitty with a sheepish expression as he rubbed the back of his neck, coating it thoughtlessly with fresh color. “Sorry, umm… It’ll come out? My paint is very water soluble, so it’ll wash out easily.”

Owners appreciate an easy clean up, after all. Especially when you’re dealing with a bitty-type notorious for drawing on walls. Still, Axe gave him a withering look, not liking how he has to wash the quilt in the first place. Feeling annoyed, and more than a little petty, the bigger bitty sat himself down with a huff and proceeded to use Inky’s dress to clean his hands and sleeves, inciting a startled squeak out of the smaller.

“H-Heeeey!” Inky complained as his cheeks heated up into a bright rainbow, though he didn’t do more than pout and grumble indignantly as he held down the skirt trying to ride up his legs. It’s not like the artist hasn’t been doing the same thing all day… or that he didn’t deserve it for so carelessly making a mess, but still he’d like it if Axe _didn’t_ compromise his modesty like this.

Hands now… cleaner than they were, Axe’s gaze drifts back to the closest painting within arm’s reach. He grabs the graffitied cardboard carefully, reverently, and pulls it close.

“.......finger paintings?” Axe guesses curiously as he notices that the strokes don’t actually look as though they were made with a brush. “Haha, yeah basically,” the other confirmed with a bashful laugh and a small smile.

That’s impressive. All of this is impressive. The Horror is absolutely amazed that this little china doll is able to turn out so many remarkable paintings in such little time. And by using methods that could be described as childish! Never did Axe think something so detailed and stunning could be made with a kindergartener’s painting technique. 

“they’re beautiful…” the Horror breathes out softly as he admires the color and composition. Inky leans over a bit to see which picture the larger grabbed and huffs.

“No they’re not.”

Axe’s head snaps over to Inky so fast his neck could have broken. He looks at the tiny artist as though he just grew a second head, but Inky doesn’t notice. He just glares at the artwork with eyelights of a cyan inverted triangle and purple X as he continues to speak. 

“I mean, I GUESS they’re nice… for a factory fresh Inky. But I’m four! I’m too old to be producing such amature works!” Inky’s triangle eyelight is then traded for a red teardrop as he begins pacing back and forth, getting much too worked up to stay in one spot. Distantly, Axe notes that the little artist is not much younger than him. He’s what? Six? That seems about right, but he’s unable to think much about it right now. All of the Horror’s attention is on following the agitated bitty currently carving a rut into his floor.

“Inkies are Artisan bitties,” Inky continues angrily. “We are supposed to draw and paint and CREATE art and be REALLY good at it too. Nearly _all_ our magic is supposed to be tied to it. It’s like that’s just what we’re _made_ to do. What our purpose is! Me however? I’m practically a beginner! I’m supposed to be a master by now but everything I paint is… is… mediocre!”

In a fit of frustration, Inky kicks one of his finished paintings, causing it to tumble and fall with an unsatisfying flop upon the cushioned flooring. Thankfully it was dry, but again Axe’s mind was far from the matter as he studied the smaller. All the fire had suddenly left Inky’s eyes, despite one of his eyelights still being red as an inverted triangle. The other a deep blue teardrop. The tiny artist’s body sagged, as if there was suddenly an unseen weight placed upon his shoulders. This weight though must hurt, because something akin to pain is etched into the colorful one’s face.

“I bet my Soul Father would be very disappointed in me if he saw just how far I’ve been lagging behind…” Inky said quietly with a crack in his voice. For the second time this week Axe bears witness to the little artist on the verge of tears, and… he feels nothing? No wait, he’s… not exactly sure? There’s… a small itch of _something_ wiggling inside his soul, but he doesn’t… He doesn’t understand what it might...

Okay yeah no, Axe is not putting up with this anymore. 

Not wanting to deal with weird feelings or this nonsense any longer, Axe does what he feels will get rid of both. In one smooth motion, the large bitty stands to his feet and scoops Inky up. It’s the usual bridal carry the larger likes to do, but this time Axe is holding the little artist _away_ from his body so he doesn’t get any more paint on himself. It forces Inky to grab onto the hands and arms holding him aloft to ensure he doesn’t fall.

“A-Axe! What are you--?!”

A series of quick shortcuts were taken to swiftly maneuver through the mountains of curiosities and arrive back at the house entrance. The unfamiliar, dizzying feeling of the magical transportation left the world spinning for the tiny, groaning artist. He could barely recognize the feeling of cloth passing over his body as Axe walked through the covered doorway to the outside. By the time he regained his bearings though, it was already too late.

Axe had walked over to his collection of rain barrels. A series of clean, plastic containers of cut open juice bottles set out to catch life’s precious liquid whenever it falls from the sky. They’re still full of water from the storm that hit them last night. Axe appreciated the night of peace the rain had ushered in after such a hectic day, enjoying the sounds of falling raindrops mingling with the tiny snoozing murmurs of a sugar crashed Inky all snuggled up with his kitty plush…

And now he appreciates it even more because it allowed Axe the chance to unceremoniously drop Inky into the biggest rain barrel he has with a large splash while the colorful bitty let out an alarmed yelp.

Inky quickly swam his way back up to the surface, spitting out water as he clung to the jaggedly cut plastic rim digging into his palms. The container is deep for him. He has to stand on tip toes just to keep his head above water.

“What the fuck, Axe?!” yells Inky at the Horror before him while glaring incredulously and indignantly. Axe meanwhile just dips his hands into the water and rubs at the paint staining them.

“huh... it _is_ easy…” the giant mumbles to himself softly as he watches the pigment coating both bone and fabric easily wash away. The magic hues swirl in the water for a moment before dissolving into sparkles of colored light that soon faded. The display was distracting, mesmerizing…

And if Inky wasn’t absolutely covered in a light show of dissolving magic substance, attracting his attention, Axe might not have been able to duck away in time from the splash of water sent his way.

“Hey! Stand still and let me hit you, you jerk!” the tiny artist complained completely outraged as he lifted an arm to swat more water at the other. “I might have been wanting a bath all week but this was uncalled for! Why the hell--?!”

Before his arm could swat the surface, sending forth more of Inky’s watery rage, the little bitty found the limb halted. Grabbed by a much larger hand that enveloped his forearm completely. As Inky was lifted from the water, he screamed in fear, grasping to hold onto the offending appendage with his free hand as he was lifted up to meet Axe’s face. However, before Inky could retaliate, could think the worst as this blatant power move was used against him, the psychotic bitty towering before him clonked his head against his, eyes closed, and...

A wave of calm washed over Inky...

Axe’s soul song crooned a tranquil tune, vibrating into his bones…

It was a peaceful melody that somehow soothed an ache Inky did not realize was lingering in his soul, revitalizing him somewhat while also causing him to relax in the hold slightly. A relieved sigh passed through the smaller’s teeth as most of the tension left him.

Geez, this china doll gets riled up way too easily. It’s a wonder Axe hadn’t resorted to using this trick yet. The Horror let out his own sigh as he quieted his soul back down, before opening his sockets and looking Inky dead in the eyelights. Their foreheads are still pressed together.

“yer not mediocre…” Axe rasped softly, quietly, as he stared at the little bitty in his hold with a steadfast look. Inky blinked dumbly in response, eyelights a confused swirl and question mark of double cyan. 

“Wha…? But--”

 _“yer not,”_ he repeated more firmly to get across the point he’s not going to stand for such obvious, self-deprecating bullshit. “yer paintings are beautiful…”

Inky stutters, floundering around for something to say as his cheeks heat up with the slightest of rainbows. One cyan eyelight changing out for magenta.

“But… but the quality… I’m supposed to be--”

“did ya ‘ave fun?”

“What? Well… y-yes. Yes I did. More than I had in years, b-but…”

“then wha’ does it matter…?”

Inky opened his mouth but no sound came out. He doesn’t have an answer. Axe uses this chance to continue.

“yer good… will jus’ get better… so stop bein’ dumb n’ ‘ave fun… ‘kay?”

Inky clicks his teeth shut at the blunt bit of wisdom and feels his cheeks heat up to a bright shade. He nods his head, feeling unable to speak with how bashful he’s feeling. Axe grunts and nods back, rubbing the bone of their still connected foreheads together even more.

Yeah, Axe will admit that Inky’s paintings are no renaissance masterpieces. He loves them, but there’s clearly room to grow, room to improve. However, the Horror was able to also tell there is obvious talent and skill in his artwork. To call his paintings mediocre, to almost practically call them trash like Inky had done, well… Axe was not about to stand for that. He doesn’t care much for lying.

“good,” Axe says, satisfied, before finally letting go of Inky’s arm, causing the smaller to slip back underwater with a startled squeak and a barely there splash.

Inky kicks off the bottom of the flooded container and breathes in a gasp as he breaches the surface and clings once again to the plastic rim.

Except… it seems that during his submeration Axe decided to fold his arms upon the ridge and rest his head upon them. So instead of grabbing onto the hard plastic, Inky grabbed onto the soft jacket sleeves.

Inky’s breath hitched upon realizing just how close their faces were again and quickly scrambled along the container’s side where he was now a comfortable distance away from the larger bitty. Eyelights a magenta exclamation point and a pink inverted heart as the little artisan internally questions why his insides suddenly feel like there’s a swarm of butterflies in it.

Axe does not give much thought to the retreat. He only shifts his head so he can continue to comfortably watch the smaller.

“so… if yer supposed ta be better… why aren’t cha?” Axe asks softly of the other. Something doesn’t add up here from what he can see. Inky is capable, has the raw talent, and was having so much fun he didn’t realize half the day was up by the time Axe returned. All of that should have pointed to Inky, indeed, being an incredibly skilled artist by now, so… why isn’t he? What was stopping him?

Inky blinked once at Axe before rubbing forcefully at one of his cheeks, as if the action would wipe away the blush that had at some point spread and brightened so much it reached his neck. He gave the Horror a rueful smile.

“I’ll give you one guess.”

“........................richard?”

“Richard.”

Inky nodded before letting out an annoyed huff as he looked off to the side. Eyelights switching to a red swirl and a purple diamond. The blush is now completely gone with the mood shift.

“Richard has always been… well, _after a certain point,_ he’s always been very honest and forthcoming. Especially when the matter concerned me, but the one thing he NEVER explained was why he didn’t want me to make any art. He outright forbidden it, even. Suuuure, he allowed me _some_ creative outlets,” Inky complained with an exaggerated roll of his eyelights, full of disdain, “but heaven forbid I pick up a pencil and doodle. It was utterly ridiculous! I mean, what’s the point of getting an Inky if you’re going to actively keep them from drawing anything???”

Inky slapped the water at the end of his rant, splashing water into the air as he looked absolutely frustrated with his owner, and Axe had to agree.

If creating art is such a prominent product feature for Inkies, why bother getting an Inky at all? It makes no sense. Axe hummed in thought as a clawed finger tapped against the plastic container.

“hrmmmmm... tha’ why ya ran?” Axe asked curiously, thinking that it would make sense given how unhappy Inky was earlier thinking he wasn’t as good as he should be. “or was it ‘cause of the weddin’...?”

Inky stiffened and looked over at Axe with poorly hidden alarm as a rainbow sweat appeared on his brow. A green exclamation point accompanying a white square.

“..........What do you mean?” the smaller asked with tension in his voice. Axe then pushed himself up and reached into the depths of his jacket to pull out a front page clipping of yesterday’s newspaper. Inky blanched, jaw dropping as he recognized the headline presented to him.

** [BILLIONAIRE DESPERATE TO FIND LOST BITTY FIANCÉE! REWARD RAISED TO $1,000,000!] **

The article had Inky’s picture in it. A recent one that prominently displayed the ink splotch on his cheek unique to every Inky.

Axe raised a bone brow at the gapping bitty, leaning in just a little closer.

“really shouldn’t ‘ave burned the store… only made me want ta know wha’ ya wanted ta hide…”

Inky had to agree.

That was a _really_ stupid move.

**FUCK**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **.:At the Mystic Writing Studio:.**  
>  Me: "Okay, so I want this thing to happen and then this thing... So we should-"  
> Axe: *goes dunk Inky in a vat of water instead*  
> Me: "Axe _NO!_ WTF Stick to the script!" Dx
> 
> ====================
> 
> Also, for a bit of background knowledge explaining Axe and Inky’s ages, factory made bitties are created as adults, and bittybones have only existed in-universe for about 15 years now. If all factory fresh bitties start out mentally and physically 18, then you could say that Inky is 22 while Axe is 24.
> 
> Also, "factory fresh" is a term coined by Poetax (as far as I know). Read her bitty fic here~ :D  
> https://archiveofourown.org/works/11199117/chapters/25010181


	10. Using a bitty like a iron

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fluff, comfort, and anxiety. That's what this chapter is made out of.

_Richard Blanchet, billionaire owner of Silvermist Vineyards and well known philanthropist, has doubled the reward for finding his lost fiancee from the initial $500,000 to $1,000,000._

_It has been five days since Mr. Blanchet reported his Inky Bittybones, Anastasia, missing. Reports say that she was kidnapped while both staff and security were busy with wedding preparations. Police have only just begun searching for the perpetrators of this bitty-napping, but it is clear that Mr. Blanchet is not leaving the safe return of his future wife to the authorities alone._

_“I don’t care about politics or money. I just want my darling Anastasia back safe and sound,” commented Mr. Blanchet last night after increasing the reward. “Her safe return is the only thing that matters to me. Please… if anyone has any information on her kidnappers or where she might be, please let the police know.”_

_State wide authorities are focusing their efforts on investigating anti-Monster activist groups openly opposed to the wedding. Marriage between Bittybones and Humans/Monsters have been a long standing controversial topic, but since the right was granted two years ago, many owners have…_

Inky’s metaphorical guts twisted themselves into knots as he quickly skimmed the article. It was all the bullshit he was expecting from his bastard of a owner: feigned concern for emotional appeal, a false cover story fed to the police and news outlets, a high bounty to get lots of people looking for him, etcetera... Richard has a carefully crafted image to maintain afterall, so it wouldn’t do if it got out that his future wife ran out on him. It’d raise too many questions about the nature of their relationship. Give hints that perhaps everything isn’t all sunshine and rainbows like what is publicly portrayed.

But that’s not what is causing Inky’s insides to churn anxiously. No, what he’s worried about right now is the bitty holding the paper up to him. He’s worried about Axe. About what he’s going to do now that he knows there’s a large reward for the artist’s return.

Inky is not blind. He’s been too much trouble for the Horror. Too much of a pain in the ass. _He’s not **worth** keeping._ Not when the guy can exchange him for a million dollars instead! 

Inky can’t see any other outcome to this. Axe is going to return him to Richard. 

He’s going to return him and Richard is going to punish him, and then he’ll NEVER be able to escape again because Richard is a possessive ASS who will make sure to not let him out of his sight and then _he’ll make him go through everything all over again and again and hE DoESn’t WANT TO bUt--!_

Inky startles out of his spiraling thoughts as he feels his arm being poked lightly by a clawed digit. The little artist’s eyelights snap to the piercing gaze Axe is boring into him. He can barely breathe. His breaths are so shallow he’s afraid he might just pass out.

“well…?” Axe questions softly, a curious tilt to his head. “which is it? ...the art or the marriage…?”

Inky had to take a moment to figure out just what Axe was asking. His mind is so turbulent right now that it’s a miracle he’s able to think at all. Distantly he was able to remember the inquiry that preceded the Horror pulling out that accursed news article. Inky swallows before speaking, unable to blink as he stares at the other with wide eyes. His mouth felt so dry…

“N-Neither.”

“..................wha’.”

“I… I said neither,” Inky repeated, feeling like he was able to find a bit of his composer again, though his body was still tense as it clung to the inside of the juice bottle. His fingers are digging painfully into the plastic, feeling as though they could pierce through the tough material with how much force they were exerting.

Axe meanwhile looked so very confused. He thought he had it all figured out, but he was wrong? The Horror gave Inky a hard, disbelieving stare, utterly dumbfounded for the longest time before looking back at the article in his hand, trying to make sense of everything.

“...................huh………. ya been forced ta be a girl… forced not ta do art… n’ forced ta marry a guy ya don’ even like… but none of tha’ is why ya ran?”

“Yep.”

“not even the marriage thing???”

Inky let out a tense snort of laughter, giving Axe a crooked smile as the tight feeling inside him loosened somewhat.

“Nope. I despise the idea, and Richard knows it, but it’s not like it would have changed much of anything between us.” Inky manages to pry a hand free from the ledge to rub the back of his neck sheepishly. His fingers cry in relief from the release of pressure. “It’s… aggravating, but tolerable, honestly.”

Axe briefly looked back at Inky like he was crazy. Crazy because why would this little china doll NOT want to run after being subjected to all that?

No, wait... they ARE good reasons to run. Good enough reasons by themselves to want to make a break for it and leave this Richard guy in the dust.

They just aren’t the main one.

Perhaps in comparison to the main reason, all this other stuff is -in Inky’s own words- tolerable. However, that then begs the question...

“.........wha’ the heck did this guy do ta ya????”

Axe, utterly dismayed, had quietly asked himself that question -rather than Inky- as his intense gaze bore into the words of the news clipping, brow furrowed in complete confusion. However, the little artist still felt his face contort into an ugly grimace. His soul clenched painfully as it turned cold from the flash of memories that flickered through his mind’s eye. Cold like the water he is submerged in.

...Suddenly having an intense urge to escape from the chilly liquid enveloping him, Inky attempts to pull himself up and over the lip of the rain barrel.

“Something I… nngh! _REALLY_ do not want to talk about,” Inky grunted with a small crack in his voice resulting from restrained emotion. He really doesn’t want to think about that right now. He doesn’t want to think about what he’d have to go back to if he’s returned to Richard. Especially not now when Axe will probably--

“Ah…!”

A light gasp leaves Inky as his foot gets caught on the edge. His dress did not allow it to fling over as it should have and now he’s falling face first over the lip towards asphalt. He closes his eyes, waiting for pain… but it never came.

Big, strong arms catch him instead, warming his chilled bones with their contact.

Inky is gently picked up, righted, and set down onto his feet. When Axe tries to pull his arms back, however, he finds himself unable to retrieve them. The tiny hands that have clung to the faded blue material refuse to let go. 

Axe glances down at the little fingers digging into the fabric before looking over at Inky with a curious tilt to his head and a single bone brow raised inquiringly. Inky can tell he’s asking about the sudden clinginess, but the little bitty can’t provide him an answer. All he knows is that he’s cold, that Axe is warm, that he’s not hurt, and that he _really_ needs to be held right now.

“S-So… now that you know...” Inky begins as he tries to keep his voice even. A challenge considering how bad he’s shaking. “What are you going to do…?”

Axe tilts his head farther, raises that brow a bit higher, but he soon abandons both gestures in favor of looking into the distance. Inky was able to hear a deep rumble in the other’s chest as he thought of his answer.

It did not take him long to decide. 

Wrapping his arms around the smaller bitty who wouldn’t let go, Axe held him close as he took a shortcut back to the house entrance. Inky did not experience much dizziness this time, but he doesn’t care at the moment. He’s too worried about Axe’s answer.

“first, dry ya off…” the larger mumbled as he slipped his feet out of his fluffy slippers before making his way further inside and heading straight for a stack of folded washcloths by the door.

“O-Okay… and then?”

“then--”

Axe’s train of thought was cut off when he put Inky down to retrieve a towel but found that the little guy _still_ refused to let go of him.

“...may i ‘ave my arms back?”

“No. They’re mine now.”

A laughing snort escaped the Horror as he tugged his large arms away lightly, seemingly unable to pull away from the grasp of such little fingers. “darn…” he said with an amused crinkle to his eye sockets. “guess i’m trapped…” 

Inky couldn’t help the mix of sputtering and incredulous laughter that forced its way out.

“You? Trapped?” the smaller asked smiling bright with eyelights of green and yellow. Of a sun and club. “Bitty strong enough to lift a freaking tool box and manhandle me all he wants and YOU can’t get out of a hold made by tiny hands?

“yep.”

Inky couldn’t help but laugh again, bright and cheerful, feeling the heavy pressure inside himself lessen over such silliness. The situation was insanely ridiculous to him. After all the chains and cages, after all the shows of power of insurmountable strength and physical manipulation, the very IDEA that Inky could restrain this giant of a bitty _at all_ was just absurd!

Axe looked between the laughing bitty and the stack of washcloths for a moment before deciding to lift the little guy up from underneath his armpits and plop him down on the top most towel upon his back. Inky’s momentary levity allowed him to let out a shriek of delight instead of the typical fear followed by giggles at the action.

With only more laughter following when Axe started to drag Inky’s body back and forth across the fuzzy fabric.

“Ppfpf-AXE!” Inky sputtered out between his giggling fits as he clung onto the bitty’s arms even more.

“shhhh... gotta dry ya...” Axe countered as he continued to slowly rub the tiny artist left and right along the towel’s surface. A hint of a smile peeking out from underneath the turtleneck as Mr. Big-n’-Scary continued his silly mischief. If Axe can’t have his arms back then this is the best he can do to dry the smaller off.

It seemed like the right course of action anyway with how much Inky is laughing right now, kicking his little legs up at him in a playful bid to get him to stop. Axe might not understand why, but it was pretty clear that something about the news article had upset his little china doll. Regardless though, a laughing Inky is better than a sad one, so he’s content with the results. 

“Hehehe! Okay, okay! I give up!” the little artisan exclaimed brightly as he flung his arms backwards into the fuzzy material, finally letting the larger go. Axe took this opportunity to grab the edges of the washcloth and roll the smaller up like a burrito. Inky’s laughing squeals were quickly muffled by the fabric enveloping him.

Once done, Axe took a step back to admire his work. A rolled up little bitty burrito wiggled before him with muted giggles erupting within. Soon though, Inky managed to loosen the roll enough to sit up and peek his head out of the folds. At some point his eyelights switched to an orange sun and a yellow triangle, although when the laughing died down, calm over taking him, the little artist’s eyelights changed once more. An inverted yellow triangle and white crescent moon now accompanies the nervous, small frown that had replaced the once bright smile.

“And… then what?” the smaller asks once again almost timidly, pulling the washcloth closer around himself. Hands shoved into jacket pockets casually, posture relaxed, Axe studies Inky for a moment before answering.

“...then we fix yer cloak.”

“...........Wait, what?”

With a soft pop, Axe suddenly disappears from view. Confused, Inky blinked several times before it caught up with him that this stealthy giant of a bitty had taken a shortcut further into the cluttered mountain range. Desiring an explanation because _fuck_ this anxiety and Axe’s non-answering answers, Inky scrambled to wiggle free of the burrito and slip off the comfy stack with the washcloth still wrapped around his shoulders. 

“Wait hold up!” he yelled as he ran along quilted pathways towards the feel of the other’s soul with the oversized towel fluttering behind him like a cape. After making a turn past the leaning towers of shiny pennies and traveling across a bridge made of multicolored tongue depressors and cotton swabs, Inky admitted he was lost. He had half a mind to climb the nearby mountain of bottle caps to get a better view before Axe reappeared and tossed his cloak over his head. Within the span of an “eep!” the little artist is blinded.

“ya like escapin’...” Axe began as he walked down into a nearby cave-like structure beneath piles of decorative boxes. “doubt you’ll stop... “

Having freed his face from the offending garment, Inky quickly spotted the larger’s retreating form and followed below curiously. He took in a small gasp of wonder as he looked upon glittering walls composed of geodes and polished metal bits. The further he went the darker it became, however, so Inky brightened the glow of his eyelights to dimly light the way.

“you’ll attract attention tho… cloak looks too rich,” Axe mumbles further down just loud enough for Inky to hear. “quality’s obvious… people lookin’ fer a billionaire's pet will be drawn ta it…”

The little bitty quickened his pace to catch up, being mindful to step over the bottom of the empty picture frames that acted as tunnel supports after nearly tripping over one painted over with gold pigment. Darkness was now quickly giving way back to sunlight.

The trinket cavern ended in a large room composed of sewing supplies. It’s wide and tall, with walls made of stacked spools of thread of all different colors, and open at the top to let in natural sunlight, making Inky think it resembled the inside of a volcano. There are thimbles and pin cushions aplenty alongside a scattering of various gemstones that complement the rainbow hues present. Axe himself is sifting through a sewing basket, looking for something, next to a collection of jars filled with all sorts of buttons.

If Axe’s hobby is to sew quilts… then this must be his hobby room! It’s so cute and colorful! There’s a large, wide spool acting as a table, a tape measure unrolled around the perimeter of the room like a big snake, and a big squishy--

…………………….

“yer dress is ratty now, so it's fine… but yer…” Axe trailed off as he noticed a rushing blur pass by in his peripherals followed by a flopping noise. The Horror turned and chuckled upon seeing that Inky had dived face first into his repaired microbead pillow. HIs washcloth towel now forgotten upon the floor. Axe pulled out the little needle book from the basket and strolled over, laughing quietly even more upon hearing the muffled purring. He had to agree… it IS a very comfy pillow.

Mischief sparking through him, Axe couldn’t help flopping face first onto the pillow as well, purposefully aiming for a large bulge with all his weight dropped onto it. The force resulted in the beads suddenly shifting to be underneath Inky, shooting the tiny artist into the air with a shriek before he came back down. The resulting incline caused him to roll down onto Axe’s back.

Remembering how easy it was to apparently “trap” the behemoth, Inky scrambled to sprawl out upon Axe’s back, spreading his limbs wide. “There. I have you pinned. Now you’re _my_ prisoner.”

“curses…”

Inky laughed with delight as his little legs kicked up behind him. This is so freaking silly and he loved it. Especially since it sounds like Axe isn’t going to… He isn’t…

“...So just to make sure I’m understanding you correctly,” Inky began slowly, sounding uncertain, “you’re… NOT going to turn me in?” Axe turned his head so that his one good eyelight can look at the little warden on his back. The brow bone above the socket raised, hinting at a bit of confusion.

“no... why?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Inky began sarcastically as he curled up onto his side, looking down at the black fabric of his cloak as his fingers played with the velvet texture, “for a thousand stained glass pieces? Five hundred thousand paper lanterns? Two billion pom-poms? You know, whatever pretty things you can buy with a million dollars worth of reward money.”

Inky noticed Axe’s eyelight dilating briefly as it seemed understanding struck him. The larger awkwardly held up a hand for the smaller to see with only his index finger pointing up.

“don’ care ‘bout money… can get everythin’ i need myself...”

“Even though that money can buy you a house full of nick nacks?” Inky countered with doubt laced in his words. The little artist personally would like to take all the money in the world and _**burn it**_ for all the pain and trouble it’s caused him, but he has a reason for that.

Everyone else he’s ever known, however, have been greedy and possessive of riches. Looking only to increase it far beyond what they needed and spend it on anything they could ever want. Maybe that’s just a quality of the wealthy elite, but Inky has a hard time seeing Axe giving up the chance to really indulge in his inner magpie. In face of his rebuttal, Axe raised a second finger.

“buyin’ pretties is borin’... more fun ta find stuff myself…”

“But what if you _found_ something in a store?” Inky argued, disbelieving frown deepening into something that now resembled more of a wary pout. Okay, he can see the appeal in working to build your collection, now that he thinks about it. It’d be pretty empty and dissatisfying to just suddenly _have_ everything. Like that time a glitch randomly gave him all the achievements for a game. He hated that! It was so unfulfilling, but Inky still wasn’t entirely convinced. Money would still allow Axe to at least get what he wants when he finds it. “What? You going to steal it?”

“ye... double fun~”

Inky snorted out a laugh at the answer. Okay, he thinks he can believe that. The inflection in that graveled voice contained a note of happy excitement. Communicating that, yes, stealing a pretty sounds like a good time worth any trouble it might bring. Something just buying a trinket wouldn’t be able to give. A third digit was then raised.

“n’ yer better than millions of pom-poms… already gots hundreds of things, but only _one_ of ya…”

“Y-You could probably buy five of me with that money…” Inky squeaked, feeling a little flustered that this shiny obsessed bitty just basically admitted he’s better than anything else in his collection. Axe had allowed himself a moment to consider the hypothetical, as he always does, but he found himself near instantly rejecting the very idea with a surprising amount of dislike. A deep rumble that almost sounded like a growl vibrated in Axe’s rib cage.

“no. i wan’ _**you**_ …”

Axe put all the emotion he could manage into that word, trying to communicate a feeling he doesn’t quite understand himself. All he knows is that the idea of changing out Inky for five others of his bitty-type is off putting. Detestable. Something that rubbed him the wrong way... It honestly makes him wish the notion was a physical presence so he could _stab it_ and feel better. Like what he normally does with things that manage to irritate him.

Regardless though, it seems he’s succeeded. Inky’s response was to hide his little face behind his cloak and curl up even more. The increased warmth radiating into his back tells him that there is now a rainbow glowing there and the thought of it makes him content. Chuckling happily, Axe lets his hand fall and moves his head back into a much more comfortable position. Looking over his shoulder is a real pain in the neck.

“‘sides... ya really think they’d let a bitty ‘ave all tha’ money?”

Inky paused his bashfulness for a moment to think about that. Richard has always honored deals. It’s one of his relatively _few_ good qualities, but the little artist supposes that even if he decides to give Axe the reward money there will probably be other parties that will be against it. Specifically to gain it for themselves. Such as the government or shady people, to name a few... The legality of bitties owning _anything_ is so murky that turning him in for the money may just cause the Horror more trouble than what Inky has been giving him.

“...Good point,” Inky finally admitted. Axe grunted to show his approval of the agreement. Playing with the hem of his cloak, Inky finally took a moment to give the garment a real good look. The black fabric is vivid and _deep_ with no sign of fading or age, and when paired along with the fur trim of bright white it just screamed luxury. The gold button clasp would probably be too small for most to notice off the bat, but everything else would certainly draw eyes. Especially attentive ones.

It’s a factor he did not consider when escaping the manor. Mostly he just wanted something dark to hide the bright white and pink of his most comfortable dress. Maybe even provide an extra bit of warmth and protection from the elements. Besides its utility Inky is not particularly beholden to the thing. Not enough color or whimsy in its design to spark real love, which is what he could say for most of his wardrobe back home.

“So… since we’re in your quilt cave,” a humored snort was felt rather than heard beneath him, “and you’re talking shit about my cloak, I’m guessing you have a plan to refurbish it?”

“kinda... was thinkin’ of sewin’ sumthin’ on top the black ta drab it down…”

Axe then felt little arms and legs crawl up his back until Inky flopped himself over his broken skull so as to look at him directly in the socket. From what the larger bitty has observed so far, the other’s current set of eyelights seem to reflect excitement and building happiness. An orange star and yellow triangle.

“Something like a quilt?” 

“sure…”

Inky honestly loves the idea of running around with a quilt enveloping him. Quilts just look so soft and warm. Something to curl up and feel all homey and cozy in. It can look beautiful and colorful while also giving the impression of something homemade. Something he’s pretty sure all the high class snobs he’s had to interact with his whole life would scoff at having. It’d be perfect!

Excited, Inky begins looking around for inspiration for what he’d like his new cloak to look like. They’re surrounded by stacks of spools of a multitude of colors… and up above he can clearly see through the volcano’s mouth and the glass ceiling to view the vivid blue sky dotted with puffy white clouds…

Inky gasps as his eyelights change to a happy yellow flower and a cyan exclamation point, and then before Axe could even blink, the tiny warden that was pinning him down had scrambled his way off his back.

“RAINBOW SKY BE RIGHT BACK _BYYYYE_!!!”

And then he was gone, running out of his newly dubbed quilt cave at a blinding speed. Leaving Axe with nothing but an amused smile and the cloak in question. The Horror chuckled quietly before getting up himself.

He’s not worried about Inky running away right now. The little artist is too pumped up by the idea of arts n’ crafts to even think it. Instead it looks like it’ll be another peaceful evening… a much preferred contrast to the nights before where he had to keep a constant eye on his little china doll so that he didn’t try to escape… or stab him in the face. Again. 

Inky’s intent is easy to read but boy is it exhausting to keep him in line. It’d be nice if every night didn’t have to be so hectic, but… Hmmm… actually… Perhaps there _is_ a way. Yes… the inklings of a plan are starting to form, but for now he’ll put it off to the side. 

What Axe has in mind is going to need a lot of thinking, with a lot of hard decisions made. He won’t be able to dedicate the time and consideration it’ll need right now. For the moment, he’ll focus on preparing and gathering what he can to get this little project going.

It’ll certainly be interesting sewing with someone else for a change.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was a bitch to figure out how to start but once I did I was rewarded with something so fluffy and I love it. 
> 
> Blanchet  
> This French surname is derived from the word _blanc_. It was originally given to people who are blond or have a **reputation of purity and piety.**
> 
> Richard certainly is neither of those things, but that's what his reputation more or less is. A handsome, prominent figure among the 1% who is well known for for being charismatic, charming, and making substantial donations to various charities. Loves taking his beloved Anastasia with him everywhere, and had the habit of introducing the little bitty to people as his wife even before marriage for bitties was legalized. Which went more or less like this:
> 
> Richard: "I'd like you to meet my wife." :D  
> Inky: "If we're married I want a divorce."
> 
> They have a very... interesting relationship, I'll say that much. |D


	11. Soft Blues and Rainbow Hues

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arts n' crafts with a big heaping pile of cute.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> World Building Tidbit!
> 
> ****  
> .:The “Covet Corporation”:.  
>  Often shortened to “Covet Corp” or just “Covet”, the Covet Corporation is the company that created and patented the Bittybone race and all its official merchandise. 
> 
> Named after their pursuit to provide people with things that are valued, desired, and wished for, Covet Corp didn't start off selling bitties. However, they did dump a lot of money into the pursuit and study of magic and ended up creating them. Bitties are now the corporation's biggest source of profit.

Excited giggles erupting from Inky’s being, the tiny artist runs out of the quilt cave and down along padded pathways. Little legs carrying him as fast as they can, Inky zooms all over the place looking for where the fabric box is. Once he finds it, the little bitty throws open the lid and dives right into the container.

The sea of soft linen rustled from the movement within, and soon pieces of cloth began flying out to flutter down and settle outside the jewelry box. Red, yellow, green, purple, white, blue, lots of blues, all of which are lovely pastels. Inky thought at first he’d snag the more vibrant colors, but the idea of him wandering the streets in something more faded and seemingly sun bleached felt more appropriate. Like as though he, too, were a weathered, rugged survivalist living off the urban landscape. The thought is very attractive. An appealing aesthetic to strive for.

During his swim in the softness, looking for the last of the colors he wanted for his rainbow, Inky came across the same creamy coffee colored fabric he encountered just before Axe got all creepy on him.

Something deep inside him called to it, and Inky found his hands already gently gripping the fabric before he even realized it. He pulled it in close and nuzzled the cloth, eyes closed, as he imagined it wrapped loosely around his neck, fluttering behind him in the wind.

Feeling a rumble in his soul caused Inky to snap out of the day dream and remember that, hey, he forgot to eat lunch. Tossing the coffee hued cloth out along with the last remaining colors he wanted, Inky then poked his head out of the fabric sea and looked around. His eyelights scanned the trinket landscape until he spotted the cage he escaped from just this morning.

Destination set, Inky climbed out of the box, gathered up all his chosen material under his arms, and dashed towards his latest prison cell dragging a veritable rainbow behind him.

.:*~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~*:.

So there Axe was, minding his own business, when suddenly he heard a flopping thud behind him.

Turning away from the large fireplace built into the wall of spools, Axe’s lone eyelight searched for the source of the sound and saw a large cardboard square laying in the middle of his hobby room. It had the remnants of tape sticking to it and cloth stabled to its underside.

Is that one of his quilt tiles? How’d it get there? Why--?

_**“Weeeeeee!”** _

That was all Axe heard before a literal rainbow crash landed on top of his giant pillow. The mass of fluttering fabric settled into a multicolored pile, obscuring everything underneath. The material then wiggled and rustled until a tiny Inky head popped out with eye sockets filled with humongous stars of yellow and orange.

And a grinning mouth full of salted meat.

Axe let out quiet huffs of laughter at the sight and shook his head amused. “there’s an entrance...” he reminded the smaller before turning back around to fill the fireplace with newspaper shreds and broken sticks. Inky grabbed the meat strip and tore off himself a mouthful to quickly chew and swallow.

“Boring! Jumping into the volcano was a lot more fun!” Axe heard him say, causing soft chuckles to fill the inside of his chest cavity. This guy… such a spunky little firecracker.

Having set everything up, Axe reached into his jacket and pulled out a book of matches. When he flipped it open, an excited noise was noticed before he heard the squish of microbeads and the soft pitter patter of tiny feet rushing up behind him.

“Oo! Oo! May I do it? May I light the fire?”

Looking to his side, Axe was met with eyelights that are literally sparkling with thinly concealed hope and joy at the prospect of starting a fire. He snorted and gave in.

“fine fine… jus’ stop bein’ so cute,” Axe requested as he pulled a single match from the book and gave it to the much smaller bitty. Inky sputtered indignantly as the orange star was traded out for a magenta inverted heart.

“I-I’m not cute!” he insisted, holding the match close, feeling completely and unfairly scandalized as a bright rainbow burned his cheeks.

“everythin’ ‘bout you says that's a lie. now ‘ere…”

Holding the side of the booklet with the coarse striking surface up to Inky, the larger is wordlessly giving the little artist the go ahead to light the match. Embarrassment forgotten, magenta is once again replaced with orange and Inky enthusiastically drags the match head along the red strip, igniting it.

Inky then turns to the fireplace, briefly examining it. 

It’s a structure built out of a colorful assortment of legos, has a pretty high base that reaches up to Inky’s hips, and is _deep_. A safety measure to keep the flames from setting fire to the quilt covered floor and spools of thread surrounding it, he assumes. Inside he could see a bit of light from above illuminating the bundle of sticks and paper -which must be the chimney- and that the lego blocks inside are partially melted. Something of which Inky thinks he would have been concerned about, but then he realizes that the melting could help the blocks fuse together and thus increase structural integrity.

Or at least he hopes that’s the case.

With a mental shrug, Inky shoves the lit match into the bundle of tinder and ignites it. Absolutely delighted with the results, the tiny bean of a bitty bounces excitedly in place as he makes many happy, adorable, squeeing sounds. A display that directly contradicts the little artist’s earlier claim.

“ya sure do love fire,” Axe observes with a hint of a smile in his words, eye sockets crinkled. 

“Richard used to have the servants hide the matches and lighters from me back home,” said Inky casually as he stared happily at the burning wood and paper. “Then he had them removed from the manor completely after the second time I set the wedding decorations on fire.”

Axe snorts and shakes his head. “pyromaniac… thought ya said ya didn’ mind the wedding…”

“I said it was _tolerable_ ,” Inky insisted with a bit of force to his words. “There’s a lot of things that I absolutely hate that I consider tolerable.”

“like?”

Inky hummed in thought for a moment, watching as the flames ate away at a scrap of torn up newspaper. Distantly he recognized the fragmented sentences printed on the parchment were from the article Axe showed him earlier.

“Hmmmm… Richard’s cuddling, for a start,” Inky admitted. “Or most anything having to do with him, but his cuddling especially. He had a habit of drinking minimize potions and sneaking into my personal space whenever and wherever he pleased.”

“tha’... doesn’ sound good...” Axe commented with a furrowing brow. The picture Inky was painting here had some rather unpleasant implications. So did the whole forced marriage thing of course, but not as overtly as this.

“No, it wasn’t,” the little artist agreed as he slowly sunk down to his knees and crossed his arms on the fireplace platform. Leaning forward as he continued to watch the fire dance. “At first I’d always shove him off, kick him out, but he’s a persistent bastard. Kept inching up into my space until one day I just… gave in. Allowed him to snuggle up to me and hold me as I ignored him and what he was doing. It was just... easier that way.”

Inky then lowers his head, resting his chin upon his limbs. He stares deeper into the fire until his vision unfocuses and he could practically see images of the past play out in between the flickering flames.

“Sometimes I’d wonder if he did it because he was lonely…” the little bitty speaks softly as he loses himself in his reminiscence. “He never seemed interested in dating anybody, but I guess everybody needs _somebody_ to hold. I... certainly needed it…” His voice got smaller. “It gave me a chance to pretend everything was okay and that he actually cared… That I was loved and wasn’t being used for… for…”

Restrained emotion closes shut his metaphorical throat, twisting it until it hurt. Inky then buries his head into his arms, taking in deep breaths to control himself. To keep himself from losing his composure. 

Axe watches this for a few moments before reaching over to the side of the fireplace and picks up the small butter knife with a bent handle that was leaning against it. He takes a moment to examine its condition, wipe off the remaining soot from the last time it was used, and then shoves the blade into the fire, causing embers to flicker and pop. The sudden action surprises Inky, causing him to look up with a start.

“so wha’ ya thinkin’?” Axe rasped as he comfortably stuffed both his hands into his parka pockets. “ya got cloth, ya nabbed a tile... ya got a design in mind?”

Inky blinked bleary eyed a few times before he finally understood the questions. The blue teardrop and green question mark replaced with a blue inverted triangle and cyan crescent moon. Grateful for the topic change, the little bitty gave Axe a small, thankful smile as he rubbed at the corner of his eye sockets.

“Y-Yeah…” Inky said as he stood back up and walked over to where the quilt title was dropped. He picked it up and flipped it around so that Axe could see the pattern. Composed of greens, blues, and whites, the pattern resembled an eight pointed star.

“I was… I was thinking this but rainbow. You know, each diamond will be a different color, and then these squares here,” Inky said as he pointed to the squares that made up the next sequence of the pattern, “would be all white. Like clouds! And it’d all be set on a sky blue backdrop!”

Axe’s eyelight dilated as he imagined what Inky’s quilt would look like and he found he very much liked the idea. He then glanced over to where he laid out Inky’s cloak on the wide wooden spool table off to the side of the room and raised a hand.

The cloak was then enveloped with the slate blue glow of Axe’s magic before it was suddenly sent flying right into the Horror’s awaiting digits. He held the garment out in his hands, looking over the outside to see how the star pattern might fit. He hummed in thought.

“white border ‘ere...?” Axe suggested as he pointed to the cloak’s hem. “might look nice wit’ the fur…” Plus it’d also help complete that quilt look Inky seems keen on having. Having fully perked right back up from his little moment by the fire, the little artist smiled brightly at the suggestion as his eyelight switched to a yellow sun and a cyan circle. “Yeah! That’d look great!” he agreed easily. A thought however suddenly struck Inky and he looked back over at the flickering flames.

“Wait. Why did you want a fire anyway?”

“ya only wonderin’ tha’ now…?”

“Yes. Set pretty fire first, ask questions later.”

Axe let out a humored huff as he flipped the cloak to check out the inside. “tis fer the quilt… no iron ta press down seams, so gotta use use sumthin’ else…”

Inky’s gaze then shifted down to focus on the knife shoved into the flames and understanding hit him. Eyelights turning into orange and yellow stars. The heated knife is the iron replacement! How neat! Axe meanwhile chuckled at how excited Inky looked.

Yeah he figured the little pyromaniac would like that... Hopefully his eagerness to iron won’t cause his hobby room to burn down. Axe then returned to look back at the cloak’s interior, and what he saw caused his brow to furrow. 

“hrmmm... doesn’ look very warm…” Axe commented as he realized that the fur trimming didn’t extend to the inside. It’s just more of that velvet black. He supposes that could be pretty warm too, but it’s a far cry from being winter ready like what he thought it was going to be.

“Yeah, it’s not supposed to be. It’s mostly… decorative? Less function, more fashion, ya’know?”

Axe thought about this for a moment -his thumb brushing along the fuzzy texture as he stared into the deep black- before he decided to stroll over to the far end of the room where an elegantly carved wooden box sat. Inky followed along, and when Axe lifted the lid he saw it contained an assortment of what looked to be furs. 

“Oh!” Inky breathed, pleasantly surprised by the contents. Unable to help himself, Inky climbed right into the box and sprawled out upon the fluffy pelts and… yes! They feel real!

“Where did you get these, Axe? Did you tear up a fur coat or something?”

“or sumthin’...” Axe mumbled as he watched the little china doll make comfortable snow angels in all the floof. “hunted ‘em.”

Exclamation points appeared in Inky’s sockets. Suddenly he is reminded of the few gruesome memories he has of Axe butchering the kills he brings home. The little artist kinda forgot, even though he was nomming on rat meat not too long ago. Inky still finds the sight nauseating, so he always made it a point to turn away and ignore the process, but he _does_ remember seeing the Horror carefully skinning his prey. Being such a resourceful survivalist, it makes sense that he’d want to keep the fur. 

Apparently for sewing projects considering their location.

“Ooooh, that’s right…” Inky breathed as he looked down at the piles of fur he’s snuggled himself into a tad dubiously. “You kill small creatures for a living.” 

Were these clean? They were all probably vermin at some point, so they could still have street grime on them for all he knows... Running a hand through the brown pelt underneath him, Inky decided it was soft and thus questions for sanitation can be safely ignored. He’s been living behind a dumpster for almost a week now anyway, so such concerns seem like a moot point.

“tha’s one way ta put it…” Axe responded with a huff. “pick sumthin’ out… can line the inside wit’ it… keep ya warm n’ dry...”

“Dry?”

Axe reaches into the box and flips over one of the furs, showing the skin. Inky let out an “ahhh” of comprehension. Yeah skin WOULD be pretty waterproof, wouldn’t it?

Satisfied, Axe gave Inky a nod before turning away to continue setting up. The little artist watched him walk off for a few moments before he eagerly started digging through the collection of blacks, greys, browns, and the occasional orange. They were all of varying quality and softness, and soon Inky managed to find a pelt of pure, snow white. It’s just perfect! It matches his cloak’s trim to a T, and it’s so soft!

_Soooooooooooooooooooooooooft…~_

Inky purred as he nuzzled his face in the fluffy white. This is his now. Axe can fight him for it.

Excited to show his find, Inky happily climbs out of the box and bounces over to the giant. Axe looks up after laying down a small, wooden cutting board to see the little artist hold up a pelt of snow white above his head. Much of which was dragging behind him. A rumble of approval vibrated in his chest.

“good choice… cat fur is soft n’ fluffy.” Inky gapped up at him, surprised with one eyelight being a green exclamation point.

“Seriously? This is cat fur?” A thought suddenly crossed his mind, reminding him of the row of heads out front. Whenever he snuck out, Inky tried not looking at them, but in the bright light of day he does remember the cat head having white in its fur.

“…………….Is it from the one outside? The one on the pike?” Inky asks as he brings the pelt down to look at the fur again. Axe simply nods.

“Holy crap. I still cannot believe you actually killed a cat, those things are freaking scary.” Axe just shrugs as he begins laying out the myriad of colored fabric all neatly on top of each other next to the wooden board.

“still easier than a dog...”

“.............Dog. You killed a dog.”

He nods.

_“You’re joking.”_

He shakes head no, causing Inky’s jaw to drop. 

“Okay, I can believe a cat. They’re kinda small, _but a dog?!_ Please tell me it was a chihuahua or some other little yappy thing.”

“nah, was big boy… ate well fer a long while.” At this point, Axe comes across the creamy brown cloth Inky nabbed and blinks at it, perplexed. This is neither sky nor rainbow.

“I’m surprised you don’t kill them more often then,” Inky commented with an incredulous shake of his head while he walked up to the cutting board and laid down the fur pelt alongside the fabric. 

Cats, dogs, probably people, what next? _A freaking bear?_ At this point, Inky is beginning to think that maybe, yes, Axe can and will take down a bear. Which is just insane, but the guy doesn’t strike him as a liar. “You could spend a lot less time hunting if you just kill a couple strays every month.”

“small yappers are fine... big ones are dangerous,” the Horror says as he pulls the large swatch of fabric off the pillow and fluffs it out for it to fully unfurl. “try not ta hunt ‘em unless they hunt me first…” Axe then holds up the coffee colored cloth to Inky, giving him a confused head tilt with a raised bone brow. 

“Oh that!” Inky said excitedly. He bounced over to the edge of the fabric in question and bent down to pick it. He then began to twirl as he closed the gap between him and Axe, wrapping himself in the soft cloth. His face framed with the creamy brown linen, Inky looks up at the behemoth with this adorably happy and excited energy that makes his yellow sun and orange flower eyelights shine just as bright as his smile.

“Scarf please!” the little bitty chirps cutely. “It shouldn’t be too much trouble, right? I can do the hem myself! So please?”

Axe looks down at this small bundle of energy and blinks a few times. Wondering where in the world this little china doll keeps pulling all this adorableness from.

“‘kay... too cute ta say no ta.”

Inky’s face begins to feel hot as his insides squirm with embarrassment. Wishing Axe would just stop saying such things, he hid his glowing face in the safety of his brown cocoon and considered staying there for the rest of the day. However, when the rest of the Horror’s bluntness caught up with him, an idea struck and he quickly wiggled out of the cozy cloth and immediately latched himself onto Axe’s front. 

Axe was… very surprised to once again find the tiny artist clinging to him. Holding his arms away from the suddenly affectionate bitty, the Horror looked down to see a tiny Inky standing on his tiptoes, resting his chin on the very bottom of his sternum. With fistfuls of sweater in his hands and a bright smile, the smaller looks up at Axe with his rainbow flushed cheeks all squished up as he turns the adorable dial up waaaaaaay up high past max. His eyelights are now a pink crosshair and a magenta X.

“Free me please~?”

Oh the little devil. This is not fair. His little china doll is playing _dirty_ , but somehow Axe manages to find the strength to say--

“no.”

Inky’s maxed out cute face suddenly gasps at him aghast at his defiance. Scheming eyelights turning to an offended red spade and purple exclamation point. Not as adorable but still cute and definitely funny.

“Liar! You said I was too cute to say no to!”

“can’t enjoy yer adorableness if yer gone…”

Outrage and embarrassment collide into one as Inky’s face becomes as bright as a lightbulb. Unable to take this anymore, Inky turns around and buries his face in his hands. “J-Just cut my scarf out so I have something to hide in already!” he manages to squeak out. Axe takes a moment to appreciate the vibrant rainbow glow that had managed to crawl up the smaller’s neck, peeking out just past his dress’s collar.

Yeah, he definitely needs to figure out this whole imprisonment thing. The little china doll keeps giving him reasons to want to **c o v e t** him. Make him want to squirrel the tiny artist away in a pretty box to keep all for himself _even more_. Getting the little guy to blush those beautiful colors has been really fun.

……….Though if this past week is any indication, it might be hard to get him all worked up like this if he’s trapped in another display case. All that spite and anger, while interesting in its own way, has not been a good time. Axe lets out a mildly annoyed grumble at the thought as he tears his eyes away from those luminescent bones and wanders over to pick up his six-inch ruler.

Things would be so much easier if Inky just cooperated, but he’s going to have to figure out a work around if he’s going to make this little firecracker stay with him.

“how long…” Axe asks after poking Inky in the side, inciting a squeak as the little bitty jumps away from his finger. 

“Ah… As twice as long as my height please,” he asks sheepishly. Axe lets out a humored huff.

“that’s really long...”

“Of course.” Feeling a bit of his prior energy returning, Inky smiles as an eyelight switches to a yellow triangle to accompany the magenta inverted heart. “It’s an Inky scarf. They’re well known for being so long they nearly drag on the floor!”

Well that is quite the scarf. This will be interesting to make… Holding the ruler beside Inky, the little bitty straightens his posture, regaining the remains of his composer despite the hint of a flush still staining his cheeks. Magenta finally getting swapped for an excited orange, causing that smile to widen.

The little jelly bean is just under four and a half inches, so Axe decides to round it up to nine inches for him. Brown fabric laid out on the cutting board all nice and neat, Axe measured the cloth and marked everything out with a sliver of chalk while Inky gave his occasional input about what dimensions he wanted with a near constant bounce. 

He can’t help it though! He’s about to finally get his own Inky scarf! He’s just much too excited to just stand still. However, Inky somehow managed to stop and tear his thoughts away from scarves when Axe pulled from within the apparent confines of his space bending jacket a fabric rotary cutter. As per usual, the tool resembling a pizza cutter is much too big for it to even remotely make sense to have hidden away inside the parka. A flicker of annoyance licks at his soul shard for Axe’s unwillingness to tell him about this secret, but then a yellow light bulb appears in his eye socket as he abruptly remembers something. 

“SECRETS!” Inky excitedly yells as he points up at the giant bitty. Axe immediately halts and snaps his neck over at the tiny artist, pausing in the middle of rolling the sharp blade over the chalk line marking the fabric. There’s very little show of it, but judging from the constricted eyelight and tense posture, Inky is willing to wager he just startled the Horror Sans.

“uhh… wha’?” the larger asks eloquently.

“Secrets,” Inky restated as he rested his fists upon his hips as his eyelights switched to a green keyhole and a yellow four-pointed star. He held a determined glint in his sockets. “Tell me where the knives live.”

Axe let out a snort. Eyelight relaxing back to its usual size, Inky could see the tension melt off the other subtly as he raised a bone brow at the little artist with a hint of a smile in his soft voice. “didn’ i tell ya ta google it?”

“Jerk!” Inky says as he hits Axe’s arm with an irritable facade. “You know very well there’s no wifi back here!”

Or even anything to access the internet with. Still, Axe’s shoulders shake in quiet laughter at his little joke. The Horror really likes holding this mystery over the tiny bean’s head. It’s just fun to say no and watch the little china doll’s over the top reactions. Very enjoyable.

“Besides,” Inky continued, lacing his hands behind his back with a hopeful smile brightening his face, “you ALSO said you’d tell me if I told _you_ why I set the store on fire. Which I did! Kinda. In a roundabout way. But it still counts, so secrets please!”

Axe’s bone brows rose in surprise and he looked off to the side, humming in thought. “hrmm... did say tha’, didn’ i…?” he mumbles quietly to himself, phalanges tapping on the plastic handle of the rotary cutter still being held in his arms. After a few moments, the Horror returned his gaze to Inky, saw the hopeful sparkle in his eyelights, and shrugged.

“‘kay, ya win. i’ll tell ya...”

Inky’s eyes explode with a yellow star and a green exclamation point before he starts cheering and bouncing around in victory. It’s a bit of a bummer that Axe can’t tease the tiny bean about it any longer, but he supposes this enthusiastic display is adequate compensation. After twirling and whooping to his soul’s delight for a spell, Inky pushed a pincushion close to Axe. He sat himself down upon it with criss crossed legs, and looked up at the larger expectantly with eager and attentive eyelights. Axe couldn’t help the snort that escaped him.

“ya look like yer ready fer a bedtime story…” he said as he continued rolling the rotary cutter along the drawn line.

“Well of course! It is a story, isn’t it?” Inky asked with yellow sun and green question mark eyelights. Raising his arms up, the little bitty looked as though he were framing words in the air with his hands as he said them. “Axe! The Streetwise Bitty and the Quest for the Magical Jacket of Hammerspace!” Axe shook his head amused.

“hate ta break it ta ya, but it ain’t the jacket…”

“What? No way! Jackie’s gotta do something! You’re always making a show of pulling things in and out of it!” Axe huffs amused as he makes one last cut in the coffee creamy fabric. First Murder Alley, then Quilt Cave, and now his jacket is named Jackie… He’s seeing a trend with his little china doll.

Hefting the giant cutter over his shoulder, Axe then picks up the long strip of cloth and brings it over to Inky. The tiny bean then gasps lightly and begins vibrating, wiggling in his seat as a star of orange and a yellow heart appears in his sockets. He holds his arms out, making grabby hands as a silent gesture to give him his new scarf. Axe obliges by letting him take hold of one end… before the mischievous Horror twirls the other end around Inky’s head with a flick of a wrist, inciting a surprised squeak.

Inky didn’t care though. He just pulled down what fabric was impairing his vision and happily smushed the scarf into his face, purring.

Then another squeak was made when suddenly Jackie the Jacket was dumped on top of him. Inky righted the large parka over himself, popping his head out among the hood’s grey fur, giving the Horror a puzzled look. The larger is standing there in front of him, holding up the giant rotary cutter horizontal in both hands.

“watch carefully…” the larger mumbled as he bobbed the cutter up once to direct Inky’s attention. He then slowly moved the giant tool to the side and Inky was stunned to see that the end with the circular blade was disappearing into thin air. It was as if the object was being erased from existence from one end to the other, but no. Leaning forward for a better look, transfixed and jaw dropped, Inky could clearly see that the air around where the cutter fades is rippling. Like as though the thing is being pushed into another dimension. 

“Oh my stars, what did you _**do**_?!” Inky gasped as he watched Axe slide the rest of the cutter into _actual_ hammerspace.

“put it in my box… got an inventory.” Inky’s eyes switched to a green exclamation point and an orange triangle.

“Hold up, do you mean that magical storage thing Monsters have? Holy crap that’s so cool! I want one!” Inky exclaimed excitedly as he bounced in his seat. Forcing him to hold onto the oversized jacket so it wouldn’t slip off. Axe grimaced at the declaration.

“nah ya don’...”

“Pretty sure I do. I could put so much stuff in there,” Inky countered as he played with the raw edge of his new scarf… Which reminded him that he actually needs to sew a hem in or his Scarfy will start fraying. The artist’s gaze then drifts over to the towering walls of the Quilt Cave. His eyelights running over each spool to see which one has a close enough color to his coffee cream brown.

“not this one ya don’...” Axe says as he pulls over the stack of rainbow colored fabrics he made onto the cutting board and smoothes it out. “causes lotta… problems…”

“What do you mean?” Inky said as he slid his arms into the parka’s sleeves and rolled them up as far as he could. They were still too big, with his fingers just barely peeking out the ends, but at least they are now a much more appropriate length for the little bitty. “They can’t be that bad, can they? Why do you even have one?”

Axe thought about that as he pulled the rotary cutter back out of said inventory. This is going to take some explaining… Probably best to start at the beginning.

“after the monsters surfaced, covet corp thought it’d be cool if there were bitties tha’ could hold all yer stuff…” Axe said as he rolled the cutter over the stacked fabric, cutting out a small square. “like those phones the monsters ‘ave, so they took tha’ tech n’ made a product line wit’ it.”

“So does that mean your Papyrus also has a Box?” the colorful bitty asked as he walked up to the spool stacked wall with the bottom of Axe’s jacket dragging along behind him. The brown string he wanted wasn’t too high up, so he stood on tip toes and found the end of the thread. He heard a grunt of confirmation at this question. 

“Wow. You Horrortale bitties must be a real hit with the humans… Richard always wanted one of those phones.”

Humans because, as far as Inky is aware, only monsters can use an inventory. You need magic to use apps like that, so unless you were one of the lucky few who became a mage after the monsters returned, humans were shit outta luck. Which… considering all the potentially dangerous things you can smuggle with technology like that… it’s probably best the majority of humanity doesn’t have access to it. 

Still, this explains some things… Inky had been wondering why people would even want an Axe with the risks their ownership would pose. Sure, they fill in a niche for the horror fan demographic, but that doesn’t exactly justify the potential for getting stabbed or killed. With an inventory feature though, that willingness to risk death would definitely go up.

Axe just shrugged his shoulders as he rearranged the linen on his cutting board. 

“eh… don’ know ‘bout all tha’ statistics stuff… jus’ that things didn’ really work out the way covet wanted it ta.”

“What do you mean?” Inky looked back at Axe when he asked, seeing that he had also finished cutting out squares from the various blue fabrics he found and was carrying his load of cuttings to the big, spool table. Looking down at all the string he had coiled up, the artist decided that it was enough for his scarf and cut the thread with a sharp bone.

“inventory takes up a lotta magic. puts stress on the system… enough tha’ bitties made wit’ it had mental problems.” Inky gasped as he instantly connected the dots. 

“Is that why you’re mad?” he asks a bit thoughtlessly as he jumps up onto the table to face the Horror eye to eye. “The inventory makes Axes go crazy?” Axe grimaced a little and shook his head no.

“a little… somewha’… mostly it’s the shards... whosoever soul we came from was already batty,” Axe said as he dragged over the abandoned pincushion for him to sit on. Inky meanwhile just sat on the table with crossed legs. He finds he very much likes sitting in such odd places.

“needed souls tha’ could handle the crazy… or hide it. don’ remember which... so they went out an’ found ‘em...” Grabbing the needle book from earlier, Axe opened it up and pulled out two needles that had been snipped down to a more bitty appropriate size.

Or rather Axe appropriate size. The needle Inky was handed was still big, being the length of his forearm, but it’s fine. He can use this. Threading his needle with his chosen string, Inky continued to listen as the Horror started drawing chalk lines on the collection of little swatches with diamond and square shaped foam cutouts.

“‘ear they were real disappointed ‘bout it all too... wanted ta apply inventory ta all the other bitty-types, but nobody wants a nutty baby blue.”

“So they rolled with it and marketed the psychosis as a feature for a new bitty-type?”

“there ya go. now yer thinkin’ like a money hungry corporation.”

Inky smiled brightly at guessing right and then turned his attention to his scarf. Using his blue magic to hold the fabric taut and in place before him, the little artist began to skillfully sew a simple hem into the fabric with deft hands. Axe lets out a low whistle watching.

“quick fingers...”

“Mhm! Years of embroidery work!” Inky said, beaming with a yellow sun and a cyan flower in his sockets. “It was just about the only art thing Richard would let me do… That and makeup. Although he kinda put a stop to that when I figured out how to use eyeliner and mascara to draw landscapes on the maids’ faces.”

Axe’s gaze then shifted down to Inky’s hips where golden filigree patterns were sewn into the ruined fabric. He poked lightly at them, glancing up at the artist with a tilt to his head. The artist nodded.

“Yep. Mine. The clothes Richard bought me were nice but they were never to my liking. They were always so… plain and proper. Not enough whimsy or color, so I always liked to add a few details here and there to make them pretty enough for me.”

“should get ya ta help sew up the star...” Axe said as he put aside the foam cut outs and grabbed a razer blade to start cutting the patterns out. “will go a lot quicker…”

“Okay!” Inky easily agreed as he started to sew faster to get his scarf done, however, a thought crossed his mind that caused the bitty to pause.

“...Hey, Axe. If the Box takes up so much magic then why didn’t they just cut back on what powers you got to make room for it? Like how they cut out shortcuts and blasters for Inkies.” Although he’s not sure why the ability to produce magical paint would require such extensive cut backs. Axe let out an annoyed grumble as he sliced out the last shape and set it to the side before threading his own needle with thread.

“they did… should ‘ave cut lot more though…” Inky tilted his head at the larger, a green question mark and a cyan crescent moon in his eye sockets. 

“What do you mean?” he asked. Axe gave the little artist a hesitant, unsure look for a few moments before raising a hand. In it he summoned a small bone attack and handed it to his curious china doll. As soon as Inky grasped it though, the Horror quickly went back to focusing on his work. Deciding to start sewing together the various blue squares to make the sky background. The colorful bitty noticed this odd behavior, but was quickly distracted by the odd qualities of the magic bullet.

The very first thing Inky noticed about the bone was that it was… warped. He could tell it was supposed to be a humerus, but it was bent and twisted in odd angles. It’s also a sickly grey color instead of the usual pure white Inky is used to, and the texture… It’s rough. Covered with pits and bubbled up pockets. 

“magic forced onta a soul ain’t the same as magic tha’ originally came wit’ it…” Axe rasped quietly. Inky looked up to see he was still sewing with practiced movements, not looking at him, though the artist gets a feeling it’s not because he’s focused on his needle work. “doesn’t really quite… fit, i guess ya can say… there’s a reason why not every bitty has the space magic of a cosmos, or the dream magic of a dreamkeeper… soul shards jus’ ain’t optimized ta handle forigen magic.”

Finally prying his single, red eyelight away from his quilt, Axe stared at the deformed bone in Inky’s hands. He gave the artist the briefest of looks, but otherwise kept his gaze on the brittle construct. He seems uncomfortable. Perhaps even… ashamed?

“inventory demands a lot… not much left fer anythin’ else… reserves are small n’ spread thin. even small stuff can be exhaustin’ if i do too much… pretty much ‘ave ta reserve it all fer shortcuts ta keep ‘em reliable…” 

Axe then stares at the bone for a moment longer before going back to work. His hands are just as quick as Inky’s as he stitches together the sky blue squares with unblinking focus.

“don’ think cuttin’ any amount of powers really fixes it, but the… ugly, ruined look of the magic suits horrortale’s aesthetic, so i guess they figured it’d be okay ta leave us broken…”

Inky looked back down at the bone. Is Axe so uncomfortable because he thinks his magic is messed up? Broken like he said? He supposes he can see why the big guy thinks that based on everything he said, but the little artist thinks this bone looks fascinating rather than ugly. It’s atypical, unique, with so many intriguing little features that it makes Inky want to look at everything.

Bending the deformed bone a little to test its integrity, Inky gasped in surprise when the construct snapped easily in his hands. A small plume of crimson dust drifted from the broken interior, smelling of the dew of early morning and giving him a hint of a taste of something sweet. Inky’s sockets widened at the clear, intricate lattice work he could see inside. With this bone so thoroughly riddled with holes it’s no wonder it broke, but such a detail has escaped him at the moment. 

Because all his thoughts, all his attention to detail, was diverted and focused on how the sickly grey bone began to turn red where it was broken. It was as if the magic itself was bleeding. Suddenly filled with a manic energy at such an amazing and yet macabre detail, Inky couldn’t help the scream that startled Axe out of his needle work.

“Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah! Holy CRAP! _THIS IS SO COOL!_ **I WANT TEN OF THEM!!** ”

Axe stared at the smaller with shock and wide sockets, not quite knowing what to make of the abundantly clear awe and wonder and pure _excitement_ on Inky’s face. Eyelights sparkling wide with an orange sun and a pink gem.

“ya… like it?” he asked, a bit dumbstruck. Inky just nodded his head rapidly with that giant smile of his.

“Of course I do! Just look at it!” he said as he pushed his bone holding hands towards Axe, causing the behemoth to lean back a little as if Inky’s excite aura had real force to it. “Why I bet-- Oo, oo! I know! Make another!”

Axe’s face scrunched up, looking so confused and wary, but he did what was asked. A second bone construct was passed on to Inky’s eager hands. With only a minute amount of force, the brittle bone broke. The artist’s energy only seemed to sky rocket at the sight of the dusty plume and quickly bleeding magic. He bounced in his seat, making Axe concerned that the little bean would explode eventually as the guy looked over the ugly, gnarled exterior of the bone.

“Eeee! I knew it! They’re both different!” Inky said brightly as he held up the fragments from both attacks. What he says is true. Both constructs are clearly disfigured in different ways. “I bet every bone you make is not going to be exactly alike. All my bones are uniform. The same. It’s boring. I like your bones a lot more. They all have such neat and interesting features! I love it!”

………………… He… loves it?

He loves these ugly, deformed, sickly little things?

………...Suddenly feeling very hot and an intense need to hide, Axe grabbed the hem of his oversized sweater collar with one hand and buried his face into the fabric. Since he was without his hoodie, it will have to do. His sockets were closed as he tried to make sense of the warm, squirming sensation he’s feeling in his non-existent gut. “‘s not _tha’_ great…” he mumbled into the collar. His already quiet voice almost completely smothered by the weathered material.

Unfortunately, Axe is not allowed any peace, because only a few seconds ticked by before the Horror felt his safety collar get yanked down by tiny hands.

“Oh my gosh what a pretty color,” Inky said upon seeing the blue-grey glow upon Axe’s cheeks. He saw a hint of color and had the impulsive need to see it and-- 

“Oh my gosh you’re _blushing_!” the artist said, finally realizing just what this glow actually is. And Axe was trying to hide it too! 

“That’s so cute!” he gushed uncontrollably. “How are you so cute? You’re big and scary but _you’re so cute!_ How?!”

Poor Axe looks like a deer caught in headlights. He is frozen stiff, with his enlarged eyelight barely a pinprick of light. He stammered, unable to get any real words out, but the only thing Inky really noticed was how the luminous slate color on the Horror’s face _intensified_ to a more vibrant hue. 

“Oh stars yes, hold that color please,” Inky asked as he held up his hands in a ‘stop’ gesture. “I want to recreate it.”

Inky then started frantically searching around the table for something like a scrap piece of paper so he could start trying to mix his paints together into something that resembles that lovely shade of grey. He was halted though when his world was quickly consumed by fluff and darkness. Axe had suddenly reached for the hood of Inky’s stolen jacket and pulled it over his head.

“shhhhhh… suffocate n' die, ya jerk…”

“......Oh my god, did you just-”

Remembering that this was the same exact thing he said and did to Axe that first night they met, Inky devolved into a fit of giggles that caused him to double over and accidentally roll off the edge of the table. Axe saw this coming a mile away and made sure the needle the little china doll was using was safely pulled to the side.

Face still stained with magic, Axe smiled fondly down at the giggling lump that is his crumpled up parka wiggling on the ground. 

He doesn’t quite understand why but… his soul shard feels _warm..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun Fact: The whole fireplace/ironing solution thing was going to be revealed at the end, but then Axe and Inky upturned everything by being _cute_ (as usual) and I had to readjust some things to make it work. Dx
> 
> Just two more chapters... Two more and I'll have my revenge against you script derailing cutie pies. >A>9
> 
> Also  
> Have a look at Inky's new cloak~! \o\
> 
>   
> 


	12. You’re no good for me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where the author took one look at all the fluffiness from the past few chapters and said “gotta balance this out with some angst.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just to let you guys know, my buffer is almost gone. I only got one completed chapter left and that's it. I really, _really_ want to finish arc 1 before I take a break to build back up my reserves of standby chapters, but it looks like there's a good chance a hiatus might happen before that. I'm going to try really hard to keep that from happening, but I just wanted to give you guys a heads up just in case. Dx

Something is wrong. 

Inky doesn’t quite know what it is yet, but he felt something is definitely wrong as his consciousness slowly drifted back to the waking world the next morning. Buried underneath his covers, eye sockets fluttering open to hazily take in the barely lit world of plush pillow and soft blanket, Inky couldn’t help but notice just how… uncomfortable he felt. Uncomfortable and, for some reason, _exhausted._

He wasn’t sleepy, no. For the first time these past few nights Inky thinks he didn’t dream. No visions of being chased or drowned or anything of the sort that could have disrupted his slumber. In that respect, the little artist feels well rested. No, his exhaustion is physical. It’s a weariness that deeply permeated his bones, making them ache and complain with every movement. His joints especially liked to fuss at him. It’s as if the prior day he ran around the city at full tilt and didn’t bother to stop even once.

Inky doesn’t understand why.

He RESTED yesterday. He didn’t DO anything that would make him crash this hard! The whole point of the day off was to be in top form for escaping today, but Inky feels just like he did the previous morning except only _worse_! When did he--?

……………….When did he go to sleep? When did he eat dinner? Did he even see the sunset? Inky… can’t recall. The last thing he remembers is... watching Axe sew in his cloak’s new fur lining. Thinking about how hypnotic the motions of the needle were, and that he… he wanted to rest his head in his arms for a moment, and… then nothing... Was THAT when he fell asleep???

Desperate to see what time of day it is, Inky threw off his blanket and quickly sat up only to gasp at the throb of pain in his chest. Grabbing at the fabric over his sternum, the little artist noticed some kind of… of uncomfortable pressure that reminded him of a bad cramp. Worrying that this might mean something amiss with his soul, Inky looked down with the intent of taking the shard out to check, but stalled when he noticed a chain dangling from his neck.

Sockets wide, Inky instead reaches up and feels a ring connected to the heavy links weighing him down. Frantic, the little bitty looks around the room for something like a mirror. Something that would allow him to see what had him collared.

Quickly Inky realizes he’s still in the quilt room, with the pillow beneath him being the very same microbead plush he happily jumped upon the prior day. This surprises the artist, as Axe has made a habit of moving him to a new cage every morning, though he supposes this chain would count as his latest attempt to keep him contained.

In the dim, blue-grey light of early morning, Inky spotted the butter knife they used for ironing seams yesterday and scrambled off his bed to run towards it. A run which had been cut short as the little bitty reached the end of his metallic leash, choking him momentarily. It seems that in his rush he forgot to mind just how long the chain is… or note that the other end has been attached to a large, hefty looking bronze lantern using the same _stupid_ padlock that has been plaguing him these past few days to secure it. He’s… not sure how he missed that, but it seems panic has a way of letting such obvious things slip by him without real notice.

Cursing himself for his rash behavior, Inky rubbed at what’s probably a fresh bruise on his cervical vertebra as he used his blue magic to levitate the knife over to him instead. Once within reach, the rainbow glow surrounding the utensil faded as the colorful bitty wiped the remaining soot off the blade with his sleeve. Anxiously Inky looked into the reflective surface and lifted his chin so that he might see his newest restraint more clearly.

It… looks like a clasp of some sort. The big springring kind Inky has seen used by necklaces. The lever appears to have been bent and broken, but even still he reaches for it, faintly hoping that this makeshift mirror is lying to him. Unfortunately, the artist felt immediate resistance. Still, he tries again, pushing harder and getting frustrated as his efforts to open up that small gap that would let his vertebra slip free bore no fruit.

Inky felt his metaphorical guts tighten as he grimaces at his reflection, feeling... hurt by the collaring. Betrayed even, though he knows he really shouldn’t be.

The… their afternoon together doing arts and crafts may have been very nice, and… Inky will admit that, even though he still plans on leaving, the bonding experience… _may_ have caused him to _think_ about reconsidering… just a little… but that doesn’t mean Axe would have been inclined to feel something similar and ease up on his incarceration attempts. He should know that. In fact, for all Inky knew, the pleasant time could have actually given the other bitty reason to step up his game to ensure future fun afternoons.

And this is definitely a step up. 

Inky can’t think of anything he could do to remove the ring that wouldn’t also injure him in the process. He is permanently cuffed until further notice. A fact which makes the colorful bitty’s soul grow cold, for as aware as he is of his situation, this shackle really drives home the point that he is the Horror Sans’ prisoner and nothing more. 

Not a friend, not someone to become fond of, n-not a source of safety and emotional support… just a pretty decoration.

Nothing more...

Tossing aside the knife, uncaring for where it may land or what it may break, Inky then looked down at the chain he’s been tethered with. It seems Axe has learned from his first try at this. Jewelry chain links are typically not a solid loop. They are merely a length of metal bent into form, allowing for one to pry it apart were they to simply use enough force. Inky took advantage of that fact to break his bonds last time, but it seems the larger bitty has somehow soldered the links closed. How? He’s not sure. Maybe he’ll ask Axe if he gets the chance, but right now the little artist doesn’t want to see him at all. Inky has found this particular incarceration attempt to be very upsetting and would prefer it if the big guy stays fucked off for now.

Sighing, Inky shuffles over to the big lantern and seats himself down next to it comfortably. Setting a link on the edge of the base, the little artist holds the thing down as he summons a bone attack with a serrated edge and begins sawing away at the metal ring. This crap is going to be long and tedious -something of which he usually has no patience for- but it’s all Inky can think to do. Everything else involving his restraints are either too sturdy or too risky to try breaking.

As Inky laments his decision to stick around yesterday -while also stubbornly ignoring the part that doesn’t regret his vacation- he eventually notices that uncomfortable pressure in his chest again. That cramp yet not cramp feeling that had given him cause for concern earlier. Worry now etching his features, the little artist decides to take a break from his tiresome efforts to check on his soul. Bone saw set aside, Inky then shyly looks about himself out of modesty and general safety before making a tugging motion at his chest. Slowly his soul phases out of his body and floats into the air above his upturned hand.

And what Inky saw caused alarm to shoot straight through him.

His soul’s form is supposed to be steady, stable, a jagged fragment of white exuding a serene glow of opalescent light, but instead his shard is _shaking_. Quivering in place like as though its structural integrity has been compromised and will at any moment collapse in on itself. A description that immediately reminded Inky of a very, _very_ important facet of his bitty biology that he has been neglecting to think about. 

So in the midst of his increasingly panicked state, Inky tries to recall the last time he’s been held. Been pet, stroked, hugged, _ANYTHING_ by a person! That would have been back at the manor before he ran away, right? Counting back the days on his fingers since he first escaped, the little bitty finds it’s been a solid week and goes pale.

_**SHIT!**_ Bitties can’t survive on their own! They need the support of a stronger soul to live! They need love! They need pets! They need _freaking_ physical contact! Without a Human or Monster donating soul energy to them, a bitty’s soul will literally collapse in on itself and fizzle out!

Inky’s soul is degrading, is destabilizing, is _dying_. THAT’S why he’s been exhausted. Not because he’s tired himself out, but because his soul is having difficulty keeping things running. How could he forget something so essential to his continued survival?! 

...But then again, Inky has never had to think about keeping his soul charged before. Every morning for his entire life the servants made sure to give him his daily pets so that this wouldn’t happen. For this past week, however, there have been no servants. No Humans, no Monsters, only Axe.

Axe… who is still alive.

_How_ is he **still** _alive_?! He’s been living out here on the streets for _months_! So what gives? Why isn’t he dead yet? A bitty has got two weeks tops before they dust from lack of contact, so he _must_ be going out and getting his pets from _somewhere._

And if he is... then why hasn’t he taken Inky along? Or at least shared his energy with him. Axe can’t keep him as a decoration if he’s a pile of dust on the floor. Inky struggled to find an explanation for this beyond the Horror just forgetting -because that’s a flimsy shit excuse considering Axe is doing just fine remembering to get _his_ pets- until he had a chilling thought.

What if Axe is doing this on purpose? What if he’s… _oh no._

No... No, no, no. He would not do that, _he would not!_ Yes, Inky knows that Axe just finished putting a _very_ permanent fixture upon his neck, but that doesn’t mean he would do something so... heinous! He said that he didn’t want him to suffer!

...But that only really applies to _physical_ suffering, doesn’t it? Axe has readily admitted that he’s loathe to hurt him physically, but with _mental_ suffering the guy doesn’t seem to give a damn. If he did then Axe wouldn’t be so content to ignore how much Inky hates being locked up and treated as a decoration. With such a distinction existing in the Horror’s definition, there is nothing to say that he _wouldn’t_ allow for...

White hot anger flooding his being, Inky shoved his soul back into his chest and proceeded to resume sawing at the chain link at a furious pace. That… that ASSHOLE! No, if this is true then he’s worse than an asshole, HE’S A WHOLE BAG OF DICKS! 

He thought him nice!  
He thought him kind!  
He thought he _actually_ cared about him!  
But **clearly** he DOESN’T! Not if he’s starving him! Not if he’s edging him! N-Not if he’s…!

Rubbing at the corners of his sockets, Inky ignored the feel of tears trying to form and continued to saw harder and harder until his magic construct _snapped_ from the effort. Its suddenness startled a restrained sob to slip past his teeth, forcing the little artist to slap a hand over his mouth as he hunched over in a bid to keep himself under control.

_It hurts_. It hurts so much, but no. No crying. He is done with crying. There is no use for crying. There is no _point_ in crying. It never helps make things better. No matter how many tears he sheds it never makes _anything_ better… but he supposes he can’t help it. He’s been played a fool.

Without a recharge, a bitty’s body and magic starts failing them after the first week, and it only gets worse and worse as the second week progresses.

A common method to break a bitty is to starve their soul. To cut them off from all physical contact until they are just a few days away from dusting. At that point, only _then_ do you give them juuuuuuuust enough soul energy to keep them from dying. 

The trainers for illegal bitty fighting rings apparently favor this method to get their fighters to be more obedient, or to just punish them in general. They like to jokingly call it “edging” -after the sexual practice of the same name- since their bitties are being kept from the edge of death. A disgustingly vulgar designation for a cruel practice. 

That feeling of your very soul unraveling, becoming undone, as your body fails you and feels as though it’s on the verge of falling apart… Inky hears it’s a terrible experience… and Axe is trying to do that to him… right? 

He’s not sure if he believes it. He doesn’t want to believe it, but it makes sense. After a certain point Inky’s magic would go dormant to preserve energy, and it’s only through the help of his magic that he’s been able to escape his cages at all. He wouldn’t be able to run away after that point.

There would be no more struggling against one another, no more fighting, and no need to sacrifice sleep just to make sure a rambunctious pretty stays in his display case. Aside from the _spiritual_ suffering Inky would have to endure in regards to a barely charged soul shard, Inky would not need to go through any _physical_ suffering to be kept contained by Axe’s side. He’d be… pacified. The Horror would win and have his decoration all to himself.

Has his efforts for freedom been in vain? Has Axe just been playing with him this whole time? Humoring him with his escape attempts while the patient bitty’s real play has been a war of attrition? Inky has been tiring the guy out, yeah, but Axe also seems to have been deriving some kind of amusement out of the experience. Like as though he’s been enjoying the challenge of building cages to see if he could stump his pretty little escape artist. If he were truly keen on making sure Inky stayed locked up, wouldn’t the Horror be taking things more seriously?

So with all of this in mind, the question is this… Would Axe actually be so cruel as to starve his soul?

……………….He’s not sure. It would have to depend on the guy’s definition of “suffering”, but Inky just doesn’t know Axe well enough to say what it is with certainty. He just doesn’t know… and that uncertainty, that very real possibility, along with the lack of any other acceptable explanations pointing towards something much more benign, is what makes this potential betrayal of Inky’s budding trust feel so real and hurt so much.

Because Inky has finally realized something important. The colorful bitty’s muddled emotions that had confused him the previous morning have… evolved. Developed, refined, become more distinct over the course of an afternoon. 

An afternoon where Axe reassured Inky that he’s _not_ a failed artist and that he’s _not_ going to return him to Richard. Where the larger admitted that he wants _him_ and not just whatever Inky bitty he can get his hands on. Where they had fun joking and playing and working together to make something cozy and beautiful... After all that, kneeling here and now against the lantern as he tries desperately to regain some amount of composure, Inky realizes that how he feels towards Axe has finally become clear. Despite all his flaws, creepy or odd or some combination in between… He likes Axe.

He _likes_ Axe. 

He _likes_ this giant psychopath of a bitty. He _likes_ his company. He _likes_ how the big guy makes him feel comfortable and safe. Something he hasn’t had since his days at the factory… and that’s dangerous. Very, very dangerous because it makes him want to _stay_. Even after all his logic and thinking Inky wants to stubbornly reject his conclusions and _stay_.

But he can’t stay, or rather, _shouldn’t_ stay. Even without the whole potential starvation thing to consider, Axe still sees him as something to possess and own. As a pretty decoration and not a being with their own thoughts and desires. That hasn’t changed. A fact that he was harshly reminded of with the shackle locked around his neck.

So as much as his soul wants to linger around this giant marshmallow, Inky knows that in the long run it probably wouldn’t be good for him. In the long run, he’d just be exchanging one Richard for another. A nicer one, yes, but still a man who doesn’t want to bother compromising what he wants for the sake of an equal, healthy relationship.

He _wants_ freedom, he _wants_ choice, he _wants_ control over his own **damn** life!… And so to that end he needs to leave.

Today… He needs to leave _today_ if he is to have any hope to escape. At this point Inky’s magic still works just fine. Though his body aches and his soul is quaking, right now they are only discomforts foretelling his future degradation. Tomorrow will be when the effects of atrophy will really start to kick in, and Inky doubts he’ll be able to flee in such a weakened state if he can’t even manage to do it when he’s still in relatively good condition.

It took much longer than Inky would have liked to calm himself down. He breathed in deep, soothed the hurt in his soul as much as he could, and then slowly uncurled himself as he brushed away the few tears that managed to escape his hold. Looking about the hobby room, feeling a little lost, Inky noticed a pair of children’s scissors leaning neatly against the various jars full of colorful buttons and charms.

Standing to his feet, face still contorted by the hurt of Axe’s presumed treachery, Inky willed the angry flames inside him to reignite as he yanked the scissors towards him with his magic and jammed a blade through one of the links. With one handle being held in place on the ground with his foot, Inky took hold of the other and pushed down with all his strength to close the scissors shut. He pushed and pushed and pushed, desperately hoping his driving fire wouldn’t lose momentum and abandon him when he needed it most. 

Soon a scream of effort tore itself from his nonexistent throat and Inky felt the stubborn metal between the blades _snap_. The sudden lack of resistance caused the scissors to abruptly snip shut and send the little bitty falling onto the floor with a yelp.

Ow… That hurt a little… but he did it! He’s free!

Scrambling over to the cut link, Inky wedged a bone through the loop and pried the metal apart wide enough for him to disconnect the chain. There are still a bunch of heavy links weighing down his neck, but at least now he is free to leave. 

Having gathered up the remaining length of chain still connected to him in his arms, Inky sought out his belongings. Thankfully, they were not far. Placed upon the pillow that made his bed, his refurbished cloak had been laid out all nice and neat with a folded Scarfy set down beside it.

Grabbing the scarf first, Inky felt an odd kind of relief when he wrapped the creamy brown cloth around his neck, hiding the shackle beneath. The little bitty finds himself uncomfortable with the idea of walking around with proof of Axe’s blatant claim for ownership hanging so plainly from his neck. It of course does nothing for the chain itself, but Inky still finds himself appreciative of what little it can hide.

Next is the cloak. Picking it up, Inky ran his fingers across the quilted top as he admired the sky blue and rainbow hues of his design. It came out so well… The rainbow star he is especially happy with because of how nicely it manages to match the color wheel. Something he didn’t quite plan on but was happy with nonetheless. A pleasant surprise… Though he could say more or less the same thing about the whole cloak in general. The Horror’s suggestion to upgrade was very much unexpected.

Flipping it to the front, Inky smiled remembering the look on Axe’s face when he snipped off the solid gold button and handed it to him. The thing was much too lavish for the cloak’s modified look, and the artist found he didn’t want to be wearing anything so rich ever again, so he gave it to the Horror. That magpie of a bitty’s eyelight got so big and bright and _happy_ that it looked as though it were sparkling. 

The current button is a much simpler, plastic yellow, but it’s one he enjoyed picking out. He had such fun opening up one of those button jars and throwing it to the ground, scattering its contents everywhere for him to happily shift through. Axe had been so amused he didn’t seem to mind the mess, though he did ask that the colorful bitty pick everything back up. That had been less fun, but Inky felt the overall enjoyment was worth the trouble.

Smile slipping from his face, Inky then moved further down the cloak, lifting up a corner. The sides of the garment’s opening had been embroidered with rainbow hearts and filigree designs down at the bottom. The little artist had thought it too plain in the front, so he sewed in something quick and easy to fill the void.

Axe’s reaction to seeing him embroider was actually… kinda really adorable? The big guy had been utterly mesmerized watching him work. So much so he scooted up right behind the artist and gently rested his chin upon the top of his much smaller head. The perfect spot to watch the little bitty’s needle work in action with curious interest. Inky had been a bit flustered and uncertain with this obsessive bitty’s close proximity, but with practiced ease he had shoved the feeling away in favor of enjoying how snuggly the moment was. Of pretending it meant safety and comfort. It was almost like a reflex by this point. With everything that had gone on back at the manor with Richard… Inky doesn’t think he would have lasted had he not learned to pretend. Though perhaps pretending was a mistake on his part… It only encouraged his developing attachment. 

This cloak is filled with so many memories now… Hopefully in time they won’t hurt so much. Inky would hate it if his newfound love for the garment had been permanently tainted by bitter resentment.

Throwing the cloak over his shoulders, buttoning secure, Inky couldn’t help but cuddle into all that fur that now envelopes him. So soft, so warm, and the weight the pelt gives the cloak is both comfortable and comforting. A purr manages to rumble in his chest, despite his crestfallen mood, pulling a much needed smile on his face. It was small and did not last long, but it helped him feel just a little bit better.

With his belongings donned, chain leash in hand, Inky finally exited the hobby room through the makeshift tunnel. He sought for and found the bag of supplies he had hidden -thankfully left untouched- and raided Axe’s pantry for a quick breakfast. Prepped and ready to leave, the colorful bitty made a beeline for the exit, but he soon found he had one more challenge to overcome.

Axe is sleeping on top of the tool box.

The sight of him made Inky scramble back behind a white, pink heart decorated ceramic mug filled with fancy spoons. He peeked around its side and sighed in relief to see that Axe is still snoozing undisturbed.

Is this where the Horror has been sleeping? To make sure he doesn’t sneak out? Quite likely. This is the only way in or out of the house, so if Inky wants out he’ll have to deal with Axe in one form or another. A dangerous prospect considering just how weird his sleeping habits are. Make a shit ton of noise? Continues to sleep. Even _think_ of getting anywhere close to him? Snaps awake. It’s mind boggling! How does he do it? The little artisan has been trying to figure it out these past few days whenever he caught the giant sleeping.

Namely because Axe had a habit of inserting himself into positions where a sneaking bitty has to cross him in order to escape. Like what he’s doing right now. _Like a freaking Snorlax_. Is he reading his mind or something? Or maybe… his soul?

That’s… maybe? Axe has shown to be very proficient with souls, but it feels a bit out there to believe that he can detect intent in his sleep. Still, how else is he supposed to wake up if all Inky does is take one step towards him with nothing more than a thought? It brings to mind an observation the artisan made that first morning here: Axe _knew_ without a doubt Inky wanted something with him when he woke up, even though there should have been nothing to indicate that.

Feeling a bit more confident with his deduction with that memory in mind, Inky rose a hand, took a deep breath, and focused all his thoughts and intent on the tool box as he activated his gravity magic.

He wants to move the tool box. Only the tool box. Nothing else, all thoughts on the tool box.

Rainbow lights enveloped the heavy metal blockade, and slowly, carefully, with a great deal of concentration and effort, Inky levitated the tool box up and to the side juuuuuust enough to allow him to slip through the cloth doorway.

Axe didn’t even stir.

Keeping a lid on any sort of victory whooping and dancing he might want to do in solving the puzzle, Inky quietly stealthed by Axe and reached the exit. As he parted the cloth, seeing the outside alleyway basking in the light of early morning, the artist paused and looked back at the Horror.

Axe is sleeping on the tool box without any bedding or blankets, and he’s curled in on himself into the depths of his parka as much as he could. Is he cold? It mustn’t be very pleasant sleeping like that… Inky wonders if the Horror has forgone such comforts to make his slumber less deep, to allow him to wake easier, but he imagines those deep bags under the other’s eye sockets means that advantage has been effectively nullified.

Inky grimaced as his fingers dug into the curtain’s fabric, clutching it tightly as thoughts whirled around inside his skull.

Axe doesn’t see him as a person.  
Axe doesn’t care about what he wants.  
Axe will continue to keep him prisoner.  
Axe collared him with something he can’t remove.  
Axe could very likely be _starving_ him.

And yet even still… before he leaves... perhaps he can… 

.:~*-----------------------------------------------------------*~:.

Axe awoke hours later feeling the most rested he’s been all week. As helpful as his short little naps have been, there is no replacing the benefits of a good night’s sleep.

Sockets blinking blearily at the light of the midday sun, the Horror let out a yawn before sitting up and stretching out his arms and back with a crack. The feel of something slipping off his shoulders and landing with a soft ‘thump’, however, caused Axe to give pause and look behind himself.

It’s a blanket... A nice, warm, purple fabric with constellations printed on it. It’s definitely one of his, but Axe doesn’t remember going to sleep with such a thing. The confused bitty picked up the cloth, noting how soft it is among the fog of his slowly awakening consciousness as something nagged him at the back of his mind… and then it hit him.

This is the blanket he draped over Inky yesterday. 

Snapping his head up, Axe looked around and finally noticed that the tool box had been moved just enough to unblock the exit. Alarm striking through him, the Horror did a quick search with his soul perception to see if he couldn’t find the smaller’s resonance.

He found nothing.

Wherever Inky is he’s out of range.

“ _shit_ …!” Axe cursed under his breath as he jumped down from his perch and ran out of his house.

_Stars_ damn it all! He knew this was going to happen eventually. His china doll is a persistent one and his own vigilance has been weakening. It was only a matter of time before he slipped up like this.

Running past the severed heads and down the winding turns of the alleyway, Axe quickly reached the street. Stopping several feet away from the sidewalk, the Horror eyed the ground carefully. Nobody walked down this alley. Axe made sure of that. As a result there is more than enough dirt and grime to coat the asphalt in a fine layer.

Enough to leave footprints.

There are lots of tiny footprints marking the ground. Mostly his. However there are only a few sets of dainty little shoes walking in and out of the alleyway. Only one of them is fresh… and its heading north, deeper into the city.

His heading decided, Axe rushed to the edge of the street and waited.

And waited… and waited… until…

Pulling his butterfly knife out of his inventory, the little Horror eyed an oncoming car and then shortcutted to the roof as soon as it got close enough. Once there, he stabbed the blade down into the metal and held on tight to the handle so that the rushing wind didn’t send him flying. The driver of the car remained unaware of the damage done to their vehicle.

There, Axe sat himself down and closed his eyes as the car continued its drive north. He focused his mind’s eye and searched with his inner being for a tiny artist hiding amidst a sea of thousands of souls.

Time to play hide and seek...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Stockholm Syndrome is real with this one. As much as I tried to avoid Inky catching it, it seems this result was inevitable. Boy just feels too much. His only saving grace is that he’s trying to keep himself logical and subjective.
> 
> I want my bitty boops to have a happy, _healthy_ relationship, so that means dealing with this obsession/prisoner nonsense to make way for something better. That's right, we're in the final stretch of arc 1, so prep your tickets and board the angst train, people, because adorable city is at the end of the line. Choo choo~! \o\


	13. Meandering towards Freedom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where nobody is having a fun day. :(

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have come to accept that I no longer have any control over these two bitty boops. They do what they want, my script be damned. But you know what I do still have control over?  
>  _The environment._
> 
> ~~Petty vengeance shall be mine.~~

Inky found the city breathtaking. 

Buildings higher than he’d ever hope to climb, stone and brick stretching out farther than he’d ever hope to see, and there are so many people! People of all different sorts with their souls always talking, muttering, _singing_.

There are people running to work, their souls crying with stress and worry that they would be late. There are thugs hanging out in shady recesses talking deals, distrustful and suspicious mumblings keeping them on edge. There is a musician playing on the corner, whose soul sung in sync to the melody they strung on their guitar. And a fortune teller shuffling a tarot deck for a client in the shadow of an old tree, whispering their question to the cards filled with intent.

But there are also friends, loved ones, and enemies walking down these streets, and for each and every one Inky could see the ties that bind them. Golden cords of light linking souls to one another, bonding them, whether it be for good or bad.

Inky saw two kids running down the street with smiles on their faces and a thin thread between their chests. The start of what could possibly be a long lasting friendship. Rivaling groups on a basketball court bickered as their souls yelled, influencing each other as competitive energy is pushed down their cords of light. Looks like the upcoming game will be a heated battle. Inky’s favorite though would have to be the bond of a couple that stretched from one open window to another across an entire street. It was strong, for despite the distance making the threads spread thin to the point the bond was barely noticeable, those souls still tried their best to sing sweet nothings to each other. It made the little artist coo out an “aww~” as he walked underneath it.

After watching a pair of roughhousing boys with a thick bond of light connecting them, trying to headlock each other as their souls sing melodies of laughter and fun, Inky looked down to his own chest. Among the opalescent glow surrounding his shard, the artisan could see the tiny motes of light that would form into his bond with Richard were the man close enough to prompt his soul to reach out for his. 

Or rather, for Richard’s soul to reach for Inky’s. Their once golden bond is much too tainted with the black of bad memories and bitter feelings on the little bitty’s end for his soul to want anything to do with the link. Oh how Inky wishes he could _cut it_ , but the connections made between two beings cannot be so easily undone. Instead, he ignores those specks of light and searches fruitlessly for a different one.

One for a gentle giant.

Inky huffs with an air of irritation, ignoring the sting of melancholy and disappointment as he turns on his heel to continue walking down the sidewalk, stomping his feet. Well fine. So what if they don’t have a bond? He’s never going to see Axe again, so what does it matter? Besides, it’s all the more proof that he should leave.

A bond is a link. A connection. Formed when one soul reaches out for another. And once that bond is formed it can only grow and thicken through the accumulation of experiences. A shared history that will either make the cord shine bright or be smothered in dark pitch. This forms naturally with many souls over the course of a single life… but for a bond to exist in the first place, both souls have to be desiring that connection. To be without a bond with someone shows a lack of familiarity or a certain degree of apathy. 

Inky has accepted that he’s grown attached to the big guy, so there is no trouble on his end in starting a bond, and after this past week one would be hard pressed to say they are strangers. No, _Axe_ is the problem here. He’s indifferent. Whether that indifference be natural or imposed, it doesn’t matter. The point is that the Horror doesn’t want a connection. He doesn’t care. And if Axe doesn’t care then neither does Inky.

Inky doesn’t care.

He _doesn’t_.

Feeling a prick at the corner of his socket, Inky rubs at it with his hand and finds it now wet with a bead of black magic. 

…... _Fucking hell_ , he does care. 

Stars DAMMIT all, why can he not? It’d be easier if he didn’t. Inky glared down at the little droplet for its treachery before whipping it off on his dress. Gripping the sides of his hood, the colorful bitty pulled it down further over his face, grumbling out curses for how stupid emotions were and that they should go jump off a bridge. During his grousing though, Inky managed to walk face first into a potted plant set just outside the door of a corner shop.

“Ow!” the artist cried as he stumbled back holding his nonexistent nose. Looking up to glare at the offending flora, Inky noticed that the plant is a big fern and that… he’s seen it before!

“Oh _crap_ no…” Inky mumbled as he took a few handfuls of steps back away from the building to see what kind of shop the place is and… Yep! It’s that same freaking coffee shop he passed by earlier! The one that had a cat sitting in the window.

………...Is it still there?

Inky walked around the side of the potted plant, hugging it close as he peeked around its side to look at the spot where the fluffy grey kitty had been. When he saw no sign upon the table where it was once perched, the little bitty let out a relieved sigh.

 _‘Thank goodness…’_ Inky thought to himself as he walked out from his hiding place. _‘Cats are scary.’_

Inky doesn’t care if the thing was in the building. Just knowing that the demon creature could see him, knew where he was, was very unnerving. So much so that when he saw the cat staring down at him through the glass with curious intent, Inky couldn’t continue on his way. Instead, he “noped” right out of there in a completely different direction to avoid the damn thing. Which was how he ended up back at that nail salon with the purple unicorn logo…. For the third time.

Inky will admit, he’s… not having too good a time running away… Namely in how he somehow keeps walking himself in circles and getting lost.

Well, no, not “somehow”. Inky has a couple of good ideas as to what his problem is. For a start, all the buildings more or less look the same, and any defining features a building might have tend to go right over his head. Literally. He’s just much too small for him to see most details that could work as landmarks. Usually it's only the most eye catching and interesting of features that get noticed… or remembered for that matter.

However, it seems Inky’s main problem is that he is a very distractible bitty surrounded by very distracting things. The most Inky had ever seen of a city before this week was through a quickly passing car window, so despite his dire circumstances, the little artist found himself loving every moment of his stroll as he took in the sights. He saw so many new things! Things that drew him in. Made him linger... Made him _forget_ which way he just came from.

Feeling a well of energy beginning to boil inside him, Inky kicked a pebble out toward the street to expend some of his building frustration.

Why has this been so hard?! It should be easy to remember if he went left or right but for the life of him he _cannot!_ It’s absolutely _infuriating_ at how easy it’s been for him to get turned around!

How does Axe do it? How does he navigate such a big world and yet still manages to return home every night? Is it because Inky’s just not used to it? Has he been carried around and waited on hand and foot too much for him to have developed proper navigation techniques? Or is it something more? Well whatever it is, he better figure this crap out FAST or at this rate he’s going to end up back at Murder Alley! Maybe he should draw a map? That would help him get his bearings and--

_“Meowr~”_

Inky freezes. Through the din of the city the artist was somehow able to hear a muffled sound that chilled his soul and filled it with swirling anxiety. Slowly he turned. This cafe’s outer walls are all mostly composed of windows that reach from floor to ceiling. Great for letting in light and all that, but it also means that when Inky turned around he saw -just sitting on the other side of the glass- the very same grey cat he so dreaded from earlier.

The demon’s eyes were wide, curious, head tilting this way and that as it’s fluffy tale flopped back and forth. Inky couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, was curling in on himself like as though if he just tried hard enough he could disappear out of existence to escape this creature. 

The cat then raised a front paw and suddenly, playfully batted at the glass, causing Inky to jump back with a startled cry. 

“J-Just… S-Stay calm, Inky…” he said to himself as a hand clutched at the fabric over his racing soul. “It’s inside... It can’t get you from there.”

The cat continued to paw playfully at the glass, letting out more trills and meows as its little toe beans slid across the smooth surface. Inky let out a shaky laugh watching the display, relaxing slightly.

“Heh… hehe… You know, when I’m not at threat of being tossed around and torn apart, these guys are actually pretty cute.” In fact…

Tentatively, slowly, Inky inched up to the window and… batted back. That cat jumped back a bit as that floofy tail began swishing even more. It then dived down as if it were making a play at pouncing the bitty. Inky lept back again, making an “eep!” sound though this time it’s followed by some laughter. 

Feeling more confident, Inky stepped up to the side and batted at the glass again, inciting another pounce. Then he bounced over to another position and started making long digging motions against the window, riling the cat up even more for play as it pounced at him again and let out another meow. He giggled at the happy sounds.

Inky is still fearful, still has the vice of anxiety clamping down on his soul and hardening his nonexistent insides, but the little artisan is also starting to relax and enjoy himself. Yes, that’s right, he’s fine. He’s playing with a cute kitty and having fun. A nice, whimsical little game to help give him some respite from all his worries and help him relax. Everything is okay. Everything is fine. Everything is--

Suddenly the cat’s attention was drawn away and they got up to start walking. Inky was about to voice his complaints until he realized that the cat is quickly prancing towards the people _opening the **freaking** entryway!_

Before Inky even had a chance to think beyond “OH SHIT” he bolted. Running away as fast as his little legs could, not looking back once out of fear he’d see something straight out of his nightmares running towards him. At one point he swears he hears a meow and manages to run even _faster._

Speeding towards the crosswalk, Inky spies a young woman with an open purse and wastes no time jumping up and climbing in. Once inside, the scared little bitty climbed over makeup and snack bars, crawled into a safe little corner, and began to take deep, heaving breaths to regain his lost air.

T-That was… waaaaaaaaaaaay too close… Oh for fuck’s sake, just WHAT was he thinking?! Playing with a cat… Of all the dumb things he had to do today, he just HAD to encourage and excite a freaking _**CAT**!_

Feeling the bag suddenly start to sway, Inky braced himself against the hard walls of the handbag and let out a long, tired sigh.

Great. Now he’s going to end up who knows where, away from all the stuff he could possibly recognize and use to help him reorient himself. At least this purse is nice... Inky has been wanting to rest, but has been much too anxious to put as much distance as possible between him and Murder Alley to let himself do that just that.

He would have loved to just stay put in this cozy little handbag and just… sit there for a while. Maybe for ten minutes to rest his sore legs. Hell, a nap sounds GREAT right about now, but because he’s never allowed nice things, a phone suddenly started filling the confines of the bag with an annoyingly LOUD ringtone.

The little artist let out a yelp and covered his ear holes, flinching hard at how much the deafening sound hurt. When a hand reached in, shifting through all the crap crowding the inside of the purse, Inky pushed himself up against his corner even more out of fear this lady will either squish him or find him. Soon though, the hand grasped the cell and pulled the damn noise maker out and away.

Inky sighed and sagged, collapsing in his seat.

Okay he’s done. Inky wants off this ride now, please.

Standing up on shaky legs, the little artist spied a crumpled up receipt nearby. After a moment’s thought, the artist grabs it, rolls it up, and then proceeds to climb out of the bag while the girl is still busy talking on the phone. It’s time to finally learn how to make a freaking map. 

.:*~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~*:.

Axe sighed heavily as he looked over the city map laid out before him, crossing out _yet another_ street he didn’t sense the little artist in. Playing hide and seek with a run away Inky is less like a game and more like him trying to find a needle in a haystack. A needle that can move. As such he’s been tackling the challenge by being as thorough as possible, not allowing the little china doll an opening to sneak by him as he systematically rides cars up and down the myriad of streets this city has. He even stole this map from a tourist’s bag to make keeping track of things easier, but he’s been at this for hours now and has yet to see any sign of the little bitty.

Did he maybe miss him? Didn’t go far enough north before he started backtracking with his combing? Did Inky catch a ride on some vehicle like what he’s been doing? Axe hopes he didn’t. The little bean could be just about anywhere by now if he did, and this car surfing stuff is already dangerous enough as is even with his shortcuts. He’d hate for Inky to get hurt just because the firecracker couldn’t hold onto the back of a bumper, and stars know that guy is just nutty enough to try it.

Axe stopped tapping the end of his sharpie against the metal ground as his thoughts finally caught up to him, causing the little Horror to furrow his brow in confusion.

...He doesn’t want Inky to get hurt?

Odd… The Horror knows he told Inky he doesn’t want him to suffer, but that was more along the lines of _Axe_ doing the hurting. Not some stretch of road the little artist falls on at high speeds. Did he mean “damaged” instead? Like he doesn’t want the prettiest addition to his collection to be broken? 

Hmmm… No, that doesn’t feel right… When he imagines Inky all bloody and scraped up, lying on the side of the street with broken bones, his nonexistent guts clench up as his soul grows tense and anxious. It’s an… unpleasant feeling… and certainly not something he’d feel for a decoration he has to fix. Is he... _actually_ concerned for Inky’s welfare? Like genuinely worried? Is that even possible? Why? He’s never--

Feeling the engine rev to life beneath his feet, Axe’s thoughts were broken. Quickly he stored away his sharpie and map into his inventory and then sat down with a groan upon the taxi cab roof. Leaning back against the taxi sign, feeling the momentum of the moving vehicle push him back against the plastic, the bitty let out a long sigh. 

He is so tired… Shortcutting so much, going from car rooftop to rooftop to ensure he’s keeping course, has been draining his magic reserves way faster than he’d like. As soon as he finds Inky he’s dragging him back home so he can take a freaking nap… somehow… ughhh… What’s a bitty gotta do to get some rest? Does he need to feed Inky candy again? Because if a massive sugar crash is what it’s gonna take to let him have some proper sleep he’s all for it.

Feeling the lulling vibrations of the taxi beneath him, and the noises of the city falling into a comfortable background frequency, Axe couldn’t help the fluttering of his bony eyelids as they tried to close shut.

Just… resting his eyes… for a little while should be fine…

…………  
…………………….  
……………………………. _ **HOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONK!!**_

Axe awoke to the sounds of horns blaring, tires screeching, and the sound of crunching metal and breaking glass as he was flung violently forward through the air. The Horror reacted on pure reflex as he tumbled head over heels across the roof and down the windshield, where he pulled out a random knife from his Box and stabbed it into the glass beneath him. He jerked to a stop, very nearly popping his arm right out of its socket.

Axe hyperventilated as his sleepy mind tried to catch up with him. With his smoking eyelight shrunken to a pinprick, the fur of his hood standing on end from the excess of magic arching off his body, and the claws of his free hand digging into the glass beneath him, the little Horror very much resembles a frightened cat. It took him a moment to stiffly turn his head to see what happened and another just to process it.

It looks like his cab rear ended a car. Thank the stars they weren’t going very fast because otherwise Axe would have been yeeted right into the other vehicle’s windshield. _Fucking hell,_ THIS is why car surfing is dangerous. Soul Fathers above, now he _**really**_ hopes Inky didn’t try to ride one of these death traps. The hell was he thinking letting himself fall asleep up there?!

Letting out a long held breath of air, Axe finally relaxed his tense body as his magic calmed. Turning forward, he could see the cab driver inside hiding behind the remains of his deflated airbag, looking very pale as he stares slack jawed and wide-eyed at the giant ass kitchen knife jutting through the windshield. 

It’s very close to his face.

Well then, lots of close calls for everybody today. Axe wiggled and yanked his embedded claws free of the glass with minimal effort -only resulting in a small amount of bleeding from his scratched up fingers- but when he tried to do the same for his knife it refused to budge. Axe let out another long sigh.

Welp.

Guess it’s the cabbie’s knife now.

He’s just too tired for this shit.

Axe then lets go of his tool and slides down the windshield to jump off the car completely, leaving the scene of the accident behind without ever looking back. Climbing up onto the sidewalk, the Horror lets out a yawn as he tries to not let gawking people step on him.

Okay… walk down the street to a different intersection, catch another car, continue the search. The walk should wake him up plenty. Of course, stopping before he gets himself killed would be the smarter option, but Axe would never forgive himself losing such a treasure if he didn’t put everything he had into getting Inky back. Meaning search now, sleep later.

As Axe is looking at all the stores and buildings, trying to see if he recognized the area, his shard shivered upon feeling the hint of a fleeting, familiar soul signature on the edge of his perception. The Horror stopped dead in his tracks and cracked his head in its direction. It was for only half a second, but that was him, wasn’t it? _That was Inky!_

The end now within sight, Axe rushed along the sidewalk and took a turn down a dirty back alley in the hopes of catching up with the little china doll.

Stars above please let that be him… Axe has grown weary of searching this haystack.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My thought process: “Okay, so my tired baby wants to take a nap on top of the car. Makes sense, but what’s an entertaining way to get him to wake up? Something that would be interesting to write and read…”  
> *yeets Axe off the roof via car crash*  
> “Okay. Well now I gotta ramp things up for Inky.”  
> *lets the cat out of the store*


	14. Three Card Monte

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where Inky plays a game and Axe gets unexpectedly offended.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A wee little TW is noted down at the bottom.
> 
> ================
> 
> I  
> Do not have next week's chapter done.  
> As always I will do my best to finish it on time but with what's going on with school right now I don't know if I'll make the deadline. 
> 
> Be sure to check my Undertale blog over on tumblr for updates on the situation. I'll be sure to post something either next Friday or Saturday letting you guys know what my plans are if I don't make the update. (:
> 
> https://cafe-sugar-skull.tumblr.com/

Axe ran himself ragged as he tried to keep within range of the fleeing soul signature. He dared not car surf, lest his ride quickly pass by his quarry entirely and make him lose that tiny blip on his radar. His shortcuts were also used sparingly to ensure he had magic for the inevitable confrontation. His little china doll will surely make things difficult when he is found, so his strength must be conserved to make sure he can bring Inky home.

Still, making a straight up beeline towards the artist was an impossible feat in this city. Towering buildings, people, animals, practically everything stood in his way, making the Horror take detor after detor to get closer to Inky. He even had to _backtrack_ at one point when he hit the brick wall of a deadend. Eventually Axe felt so anxious, so rushed to catch up to the little bitty -before Inky had a chance to _somehow_ disappear from his perception like the little escape artist that he is- that the Horror just said “fuck it” at one point and climbed through an open window to cut through an entire appartment building.

The abode itself was bare with only stacks and stacks of cardboard boxes lining the walls. Distantly Axe had thought to himself that it must be moving day, but he was so tunnel visioned that the little bitty hardly recognized the inkling as he dashed right for the open front door. The hunter faltered only for a moment as he dived around the feet of some startled lady carrying a box into the apartment, but he managed to resume his run down the halls with little to deter him. He’s close, _he’s so close_... Axe can feel it!

Having darted around the shuffling feet of some movers carrying a couch through the foyer entrance way, Axe finally stopped his tireless pursuit underneath the chassis of a moving van in favor of catching his breath. _Stars_ does he hate this…! This bitty very much likes to take things at a leisurely pace, thank you very much. All this rushing and running around is better suited for Inky.

Speaking of which, heaving in gulps of air as he leans heavily against the side of a tire, Axe scans the buildings on the other side of the street for any sign of the little artist. His soul… it feels as though it’s just close enough to be just over there… It did not take the larger bitty long to spot what looked like a group of people sitting on the steps of a stoop leading up into another apartment building. Teenagers? They look young… A mix of Monsters and Humans it looks like too, and… they seem to be centering their attention on a tiny figure standing among them on a stone step.

_Inky._

Axe took a few more moments to regain his lost breath before looking both ways and crossing the street. It didn’t seem as though Inky was going to move, so the big bitty took his time sneaking his way up. Once close enough, the Horror opted to shortcut into a planter hanging from a window next to the stoop. There he sat down in the soil and truly rested as he breathed in the scent of fresh basil and rosemary. From here, hidden among the foliage, Axe had a prime view of the kids and, just as he thought, _Inky._

Inky who seems to be playing some kind of card game with one of the boys as most of the others watched. His hair is a messy brown and he has one leg folded as he sat sideways upon the stoop step to face the tiny bitty standing before him. Between the two laid three cards, face side down, that the boy is shuffling rapidly from one place to the next. Inky watched the cards intently with one eyelight a cyan crosshair and the other a yellow circle. Based on the situation and what he’s observed of the little artisan this past week, Axe would have to guess that he’s feeling… a calm or patient focus with… joy? Though since it’s such a simple shape it’s probably something more mild like content.

“Okay...,” the human boy said when he finally stopped shuffling the cards. “Which one is the queen?”

Inky hesitated for a moment as his eyelights swapped for an hourglass and question mark. So still calm and content, but is thinking and unsure. Soon the little bitty pointed to the right most card. “That one?” he guessed. The boy then turned over the card to reveal that it’s the eight of spades.

“Awww… I could have sworn that was it,” Inky exclaimed as his eyelights swapped to a cyan X and a green circle. Calm disappointment? Mild surprise? Yeah, those could probably work. The boy smirked down confidently at the little artist and asked if he would like to try again. Inky bounced in place with arms outstretched high. “Yeah! Again please~!” and then the game started anew.

Hmm… Inky doesn’t look as though he’s going to leave anytime soon, so it might be a while before he can grab his little china doll. With the fuss he is liable to put up, it’s best to wait until Inky’s away from a group of people that might feel compelled to help him. Not that Axe is complaining. He’s very much appreciating this time of respite.

As Inky exclaims about losing another round, Axe absentmindedly looks about himself and spots growing on the other side of the planter clusters of tiny, pink flowers. Eyelight growing big and bright with desire and awe, the Horror immediately begins to creep his way quietly past the nice smelling herbs to reach the little blooms. Carefully he grabs a stalk and pulls a cluster in close, admiring the pastel colors and how soft the petals feel underneath his gently brushing phalanges. So delicate and petite… What should he do with them? Put them in his vase with the others? Or…

Hearing a shout of frustration, Axe’s eyelight darts over to Inky as he stomps his foot on the concrete step. Seems he lost another round.

……...Maybe… he can give them to Inky? Would he like that? He could paint them. It’s not a flower Axe has back home, so it’d be something new. Would he like that? Hmmm… Perhaps, perhaps not… His little china doll will most likely try to stab him in the face again out of pure spite once he’s captured, so he might not be in the mood. Still, having something pretty to draw could help lessen the artist’s wrath against him, so it’s worth a shot. Summoning one of his sickly bone shards, Axe slices away at the stalk slowly so that the construct doesn’t break while Inky, once again, cries out in dismay at his foul luck.

“What the hell?! I KNOW I picked right that time!” the little artist said fuming as his eyelights turn red and green to reflect his anger and disbelief. Several of the teenagers chuckle at his expense, but the messy haired boy seemingly decides to grant the tiny skeleton some mercy.

“I’ll let you in on a little secret…” the boy says as he leans down close, putting a hand up to his mouth like he really was about to share something confidential. He then turns all three cards over. An eight of spades, a three of hearts, and… a four of diamonds.

Not a queen in sight.

“What! How’d you do that?! It was right here!” Inky exclaimed in equal parts shocked dismay and excited curiosity as he started picking the cards up and examining them, looking for any sign of the missing queen of hearts. The smug teen simply did jazz hands and said “Magic~”

Inky’s eye socket twitched as he threw the boy a disgusted look. _‘ah… so that’s wha’ purple means…’_ Axe thought to himself as he noted the same purple and red eyelights Inky had glared at him with when he tried using the same exact explanation. _‘no wonder it kept poppin’ up whenever richard was mentioned…’_

“Oh no! Don’t give me that Monster bullshit! That’s barely acceptable even for real magic!” Axe heard Inky demand as he finally cut through the last of the stem’s fibers and carefully put the pretty flowers in his inventory.

“Hahaha! Aren’t you a Monster though?” the messy haired boy laughed as he dodged a card Inky threw at him. One of the other teens -a nerdy looking female owl Monster reclining in the arms of a snuggling Human girl- then looked up from texting on her phone and briefly said “Uh, technically no.” 

“Yeah! They’re Human made!” chipped in another Monster girl. Some kind of peppy, biped plant thing with roses and grass for hair. She’s seemingly distracted from the conversation as she tries to pop the top of an odd looking, glass soda bottle that… Is that a marble? Did opening the bottle drop a marble into it? _**Axe wants.**_ “In factories and such. And they have different biology too! And-”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it,” Inky rudely interrupts as he dismissively waves his hand in the air. “We’re all abominations of nature that are brought to life by desecrating the souls of your dead. Now tell me how the trick works!” the little bitty demands of the messy haired kid, going from annoyed to eager on the turn of a dime. 

Axe does not blame Inky for being so brash. The argument the rose girl was stating is part of an old rhetoric that every bitty must have heard at least once in their life. Despite the origins of their smaller counterparts -or rather _because_ of their origins- many Monsters are all too eager to separate themselves from the Bittybones race. The long laundry list of reasons people like to use to point out Monster and Bitty differences can get real tiresome to hear after a while. Especially when you’re aware enough to read in between the lines: 

Your existence is an affront to our culture and beliefs. We owe you our thanks, but not our love. You’re not wanted among our ranks. 

An interpretation reinforced by how the nerdy owl grimaces severely and the rose plant rubs the back of her neck looking guilty. “Well when you put it like THAT I just feel like a jerk…” she mumbles quietly as she takes a sip from her drink. The card kid gives the girls an awkward smile before turning his attention back to Inky.

“Honestly? The trick is just some slight of hand,” the boy says as he flicks his wrist with a quick motion, seemingly pulling the missing queen of hearts out of nowhere. “While I have you distracted with the cards moving all over the place, I slip the queen into my sleeve without you noticing.”

Inky just stands there staring at the card quietly for a few moments. His eyelights have swapped to an ellipses and a refresh symbol, giving Axe the impression he’s in deep thought trying to remember something, before they suddenly turn into double exclamation points as he yells out “OH THAT’S RIGHT! I’M BEING DISTRACTED!”

Axe slaps a hand over his hidden mouth to cease any sounds he might make as his shoulders bounce up and down in suppressed laughter. Is _that_ why he’s playing with these kids? He was distracted? No doubt by the card game that boy was playing. The Horror was wondering why the little jelly bean was lingering here instead of running away as far as he could. 

“I really should get going,” Inky says with a polite bow to the teenangers. “Thanks for the show!”

The kids all offer their goodbyes as well as Inky started hopping down the steps of the stoop. Axe pushes himself up from the potting soil to kneel on one knee as he watches the artist closely. Finally… Now to stalk the little china doll and snag him when no one’s around to help.

...Or at least that’s what Axe was thinking when Inky started to look left and right along the street, apparently confused. Before long, the little bitty pulled out what looked like a rolled up receipt from somewhere under his cloak and unfurled it.

“Ummm…” Inky mumbled as he worriedly looked between what looked to be a crude map and the surrounding area before turning back to face the teenagers. “Hey, uhhhh… Do any of you guys happen to know which direction I came from?”

………….Wait. He… doesn’t remember?

“Nope.”  
“Nada.”  
“I wasn’t looking, sorry.”

Inky how could you _not_ remember where the heck you came from?

“Oh…” Inky said crestfallen as his shoulders slumped and he looked to the ground appearing to be so very tired and a little frustrated. Understandable considering he can’t seem to remember something as simple as _what direction he walked in from._ Axe knows the little artist has the tendency to get distracted and have his head in the clouds, but seriously? _**Inky.**_

Inky we're gonna have a talk about this when we get home because this is just... no. Just no.

“Well, where are you going?” the rose girl asked, having perked back up from being shamed by a tiny skeleton. “Maybe we can point you in the right direction.”

“Oh, well, I’m not…” Uncertain awkwardness disappears in a flash as a yellow light bulb and orange pentagram appears in his sockets. Obviously Inky’s got an idea he’s quite happy with, but Axe isn’t too sure what that devil symbol is supposed to mean. Regardless, the little bean seems much more confident and self-assured with that broadening grin of his.

“Actually...” Inky begins as he rolls up the receipt and stuffs it into a bag hanging against his hip. “...do any of you know of an Axe bitty? An ownerless one that lives on the street? I’m looking for where he lives.”

Ahh… So that’s his idea. Doesn’t matter how lost he is, if Inky can at least figure out where Murder Alley is he can focus on going in the opposite direction. However, most of the teenagers’ expressions dropped at the mention of his bitty type. 

The messy haired kid looked down at Inky in dismay as a few cards from the deck he was shuffling slipped from his grasp. The rose girl choked on her drink and began coughing into her arm. The quiet owl cuddler snapped her eyes open wide as she turned to look at Inky in alarm. And a yet unspoken human boy seemingly repairing a broken skateboard slipped his screwdriver from a screw he was tightening.

“Axe bitty…?” the owl girl said as she looked up confused from her phone. Quickly though her expression scrunched up into a grimace, like as though she bit into something sour. “Wait. You don’t mean _THAT_ bitty, do you?”

“...I don’t know. Never heard of a _THAT_ bitty-type before,” Inky sassed back with a hint of an edge to his voice, looking somewhat irritated. “Can you be more specific?”

Axe tilted his head in curiosity. He did not need to see the red crosshair and purple pentagram eyelights to know that Inky is annoyed with the owl girl, but the Horror cannot fathom why. Was it something she said? How she said it? About him? He’s not sure. The bird’s distaste towards his mention is not an uncommon reaction and is more than likely justified. It’s an opinion that Inky probably shares with her himself -considering how much he hates him- so Axe is not sure why all the sudden the tiny jelly bean looks as if he’d like to kick the Monster. Meanwhile, the teenager was seemingly able to pick up on Inky’s displeasure at least somewhat and began to scratch her cheek sheepishly.

“Sorry, sorry... I mean, there’s one that lives around here, yeah,” the Monster girl confirmed before pointing to the left side of her head. “Supposed to have a giant hole in his skull with one, big red eye, right?”

Instantly Inky’s irritated air disappeared and was replaced with a bright, happy smile as he excitedly shouted out “Yeah that’s him!” Eyelights now a yellow sun and cyan circle. The skateboard guy then leans down towards Inky and speaks.

“You should stay away from him, little dudette.” 

“Dude.” 

“Sorry, dude. But yeah stay away.” The boy then straightens up his back and returns to tightening the screw on his skateboard. Ah, no wait... He’s loosening it. The wheel just popped off. “That’s what all our parents tell us at least. Apparently he’s territorial… and throws knives.”

“He throws them?” Inky responds with obvious surprise crossing his face. Green replacing cyan. “I thought all he did was use them for stabby-stab.”

“That too!” rose girl piped up with a smile now that she’s not dying from her coughing fit. “I actually heard from Stacy the other day that he was chasing a bird or something all over the neighborhood. Saw him kill it too by stabbing it to death.”

The quiet cuddler then leaned in towards the group, holding her owl girlfriend just a little bit closer to herself. Her voice is soft, face dark and haunted, as she says “I hear that in the alleyway where he lives... there is a decaying, human body hanging from the fire escape on a meat hook…”

Axe couldn’t help the humored snort that came out of him. Wow. The rumor mill really got away on that one, didn’t it? The card kid, seemingly having heard him laugh, turned his head towards the planter. Quickly the Horror dropped to the ground and extinguished his eyelight. _Crap._ Hopefully the Human didn’t spot him.

“Actually, all he has are animal heads,” he hears Inky’s tiny voice respond faintly. “Stabbed onto a bunch of sticks. It’s really gruesome.”

“No way.”

“Holy shit, seriously? That’s gnarly, little dude!”

“Ugh… You _would_ like that.”

“So wait, you know him? You've been to his house? _What’s he like?”_

Axe hears shuffling and scuffing of shoes as it sounds like someone got up and moved. He peeks his head above the edge of the planter, thankful to see that the messy haired kid has returned his attention to Inky. He also sees that the rose girl is now crouched down on the sidewalk, chin on concrete, up close and eye level with Inky. Who apparently felt compelled to take a couple steps back from the sudden encroachment of his personal space. Rose girl then makes a pout as she says “I bet he’s really mean for killing all those cute little animals.”

“And blood thirsty.”

“A real serial killer. Pint-sized edition.”

“Probably likes to torture the poor things... Kill ‘em slow... Just to watch how they squirm...”

Axe doesn’t pay much mind to the comments. It’s what he’s been told all his life, after all, but the Horror can plainly see that Inky is looking uncomfortable as he shifts restlessly from one foot to the next. He can even see the little artist fidgeting with a familiar looking chain dangling from his neck. There’s even a guilty grimace etched into Inky’s face as his eyelights shift to a magenta square and a purple club. Shapes whose meanings are lost on Axe.

Seeing a subtle movement, the Horror was able to catch the smaller moving the chainlinks further out of sight under his cloak.

“A-Actually, he’s really nice… and sweet… and really gentle, a-and…” The more Inky talked the less awkward and nervous he became. Yet, as his confidence grew so, too, did his bashfulness and… dejection. A light rainbow flush grew on the smaller’s cheeks as he looked at the ground downcast. His purple club eyelight switching out for a deep blue teardrop as his quiet voice cracks with pained emotion, saying “...and was the best thing that ever happened to me…”

Everyone stares down at the tiny artist in silence for a few moments as they took in that information. Surely, these kids never thought they’d hear such words used to describe him, the local psychopath, and are shocked by the revelation. Axe meanwhile is just as dumbstruck, but for an entirely different reason.

Sweet? Gentle? Nice??? But doesn’t Inky hate him? The little china doll has made it very clear this past week he does NOT appreciate his incarceration attempts, so what gives? If Inky thinks he’s the best thing that’s ever happened to him, then why is he running away? If he really thinks he has all those qualities, then why isn’t the artist staying with him? Why’s he trying to escape? Why--

“I ship it.”

Axe blinks out of his thoughts and looks towards the commenter. The quiet, owl cuddler girl looks resolute in her degree. Nodding to herself self-assured that… What does that phrase even mean? The Horror feels quite certain that she’s not talking about mailing packages. The only clue he’s provided with is Inky’s reaction. The dour, heavy mood that was hanging over him had been immediately smacked away as that light blush bloomed and flourished to something MUCH brighter.

“W-What?!” he stammered with his jaw dropped in shock.

“Awwwwwwww…” the rose Monster cooed as she sat herself up. Hands on her cheeks, lost in romantic daydreams, she says adoringly “He’s trying to find him so they can make up or confess or whatever~”

“No I’m not!” 

Confess what?

“A dainty little beauty seeking out the warm, strong arms of a rugged beast...” the card boy says as he looks off into the distance, eyes lit with an inspired fire. Inky on the other hand looks completely mortified. 

“ _OH_ my stars!! Don’t say it like that!!!”

Well now. That just sounds kinda sexual and-- ... _Ooooh_ , okay. Axe gets it now.

“It’s a tale as old as time...”

“A song as old as rhyme…”

“Beautyyyy and the Beeeeast~”

“YOU GUYS ARE THE WORST, I’M LEAVING!!!”

With a giant, angry blush staining the entirety of Inky’s skull, he yanks his hood down further over his head and begins stomping down the sidewalk as all the teenagers laugh at his expense. The skateboard guy waves an arm in Inky’s direction as he tries to get the little bitty’s attention and quell his chortles.

“H-Hey, little dude! Hahaha! Other… Other way!” the teen said between breaths of his laughing fit. When Inky turned around -allowing his hood to rise just high enough for the magenta question mark and pink swirl eyelights to be seen within- the human pointed in the opposite direction. 

“That Axe bitty’s, haha…” The skateboard kid takes a moment to breathe in a deep, calming breath. “Whew… That bitty’s back alley is supposed to be, uhhh… You walk three blocks that way, turn right on Clematis Street, then walk another five blocks and you should be there.”

“What?! I’m that close?!!” Inky exclaims with dismayed shock. The little bean looks absolutely devastated by this news, no doubt hoping to have been much farther away by now, but it appears none of the teens have noticed this.

“Yep! So go find your boyfriend and have a shit ton of babies with him, okay~?”

Inky gapped up at the boy in disbelief. Apparently absolutely mortified by such a bold, crass suggestion. Letting out an embarrassed, utterly _scandalized_ squeal, the artist quickly turned tail and ran in the correct direction as fast as his little legs could carry him. The teenagers then yell out their goodbyes once again. This time with more energy and happy enthusiasm.

“Bye, Mr. Bitty!” 

“Don’t let your dreams be dreams, little guy!”

“Remember to use protection!”

“No! Don’t listen to him! SEND US BABY PICTURES!”

“Byyyyyyyyyyyyye~!”

After a few more moments of such teasing farewells, the teens settle back down and look at one another. The rose girl is the first to speak up.

“Soooo... do you think it’ll work out between them?”

“No clue. I mean how-”

The owl Monster’s response was cut short by Axe teleporting onto a stone step in the middle of the group. Everyone immediately scrambled away from the homicidal bitty. Card kid evacuated up the steps and stopped by the door leading into the apartment building. Rose girl -who was in the process of walking back up to her seat- let out a piercing shriek before climbing on top of the stoop’s stone railing to get some high ground safety. Skateboard guy meanwhile -who had been sitting on the opposite railing- was startled bad enough that he accidentally fell backwards into a bush. The quiet human -with her bird girlfriend scooped into her arms- raced down the steps to set the owl behind a lamppost before turning back towards the Horror with a protective stance and a determined gleam to her glaring eyes.

Axe ignored all the wide eyed stares he’s receiving as he watched Inky continue to run and run and run until he turned a corner… going in the opposite direction from his alleyway home. He distantly recognizes the sounds of whispers as he continues to stare off at that corner deep in thought.

“Do… do you think that’s him...?” 

“Maybe...?” 

“Do you think he heard all that…?”

“The rugged Beast watches after his delicate bloom as they run off into the dark of the night… Craving their soft touch to ease the aching loneliness of his heart…”

“Shush…! Shut up before he stabs you…!”

Maybe… maybe Axe can let the little china doll run around for just a bit longer… Allow him the chance to get as far as he can, and have more fun with the people he meets along the way. Axe will keep an eye on him, of course. Make sure the little firecracker doesn’t get himself into any trouble. It’ll also be interesting to see if Inky will ever learn how to navigate right. At the very least, it will allow the Horror time to… think.

There’s… a whole lot about Inky’s behavior Axe just doesn’t understand… but he’d like to.

So with that in mind, the Horror bitty turns around, picks up the half drunk soda bottle with the marble, and then shortcuts away. He hears a noise of complaint from the rose monster, but Axe doesn’t care.

He has an Inky to catch up to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: a brief moment of misgendering
> 
> ===================
> 
> ** World Building Tidbit! **
> 
> Bitties were first introduced and sold to the public five years before Monsters surfaced from the Underground. It's generally accepted that Bitties helped pathed the way for societal acceptance of Monsters by introducing Humans to the concept of magical, sentient creatures. Monsters of course still encountered opposition and problems from politicians and activist groups, but it's believed that the road to integration would have been a lot rockier if Bitties were not already well established.
> 
> Monsters showed their appreciation by allowing the Bittybones to continue existing. There was a real threat there for a while that -in order to gain access to the Monsters' gold, tech, and medical magics- the government was going to shut down production of Bitties and outlaw their ownership. Either of which was tantamount to genocide since bitties hadn't yet been designed for reproduction and needed the support of a stronger soul to live.
> 
> ((I might actually write a one shot about this sometime. I've had a plot in mind for a while, so maybe I'll work on that during my future hiatus.))
> 
> ~~I may have accidently depicted the card trick wrong based on a quote in a show where they said "the lady is never on the table". Let's just pretend the kid likes making his own card tricks like this. TwT~~

**Author's Note:**

> My Undertale Art & Fanfic Tumblr Blog:  
> https://cafe-sugar-skull.tumblr.com/
> 
> [Want to ask the author or characters any questions? Feel free to leave a comment or send your query through the blog!]
> 
> =========  
>  **.:[WARNING]:.**  
>  The writer talks too much.  
> She adores comments and will eagerly answer them, but she's prone to rambling in the midst of her excitement. The author wishes to apologize in advance for any long winded explanations or blocks of text you may be subjected to. ^^;


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